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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169510">Orbit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsolace/pseuds/sunsolace'>sunsolace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Written Across the Stars [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Intimacy, F/M, Gray Asexual Character, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Romance, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Trust Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 02:41:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>80,242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsolace/pseuds/sunsolace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of moments in Carth and Velire’s relationship as they’re drawn together by forces beyond their control.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carth Onasi/Female Revan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Written Across the Stars [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2300255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>KOTOR was my first fandom back in 2007, so this feels like coming home. I reinstalled the game earlier this year and, well, here we are. This was supposed to be a oneshot... eighteen chapters later, it's finally done.</p>
<p>As always, this is completely written and will have regular updates. My deepest thanks go to Ariejul for betaing!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their welcome to Taris’s gravity well was a rude one. As soon as they hit atmo, the escape pod trembled in warning. Every star-pilot had an infinite respect for g-forces, and after twenty years of service, Carth Onasi understood every shift in the tiny vessel. The precipitous rumble around him was a harsh reminder that sometimes gravity was all but impossible to resist.</p>
<p>Carth braced in his seat, for all the good that did to prepare for the first violent heave. He was slammed forward; the safety harness dug into his chest with enough force to bruise. Despite every hard-won instinct yelling to stay alert, his senses pinpointed to a blurred rush of movement and sound. His hands twitched, desperate for a control panel to guide their descent. But all he could do was catch his companion’s wide-eyed look with what he hoped was a bolstering expression before they were thrown back and forth in their seats.</p>
<p>A final thunderous slam. Metal screeched and shuddered with bone-rattling force. The interior lights cut out, leaving them in an awful dizzying black as the pod continued to skid along the ground.</p>
<p>And then silence.</p>
<p>Carth couldn’t hear his own heartbeat over the ringing in his ears. All he could do was draw in one breath after another, unsure whether the trembles running through him were the product of his overtaxed nerves or all in his head. He flexed his hands, stretched his neck. Not enough to work the ache from his muscles, but enough to bring him back to his senses. His ribs made their complaints known; a quick check found none of them broken. Small mercies.</p>
<p>The escape pod rested off-kilter, and Carth found himself dangling from his harness. When he unclipped the restraints, he dropped several feet to the ground. A fresh pain shot through his knees as he landed. Fighting a groan, he fumbled for one of the wall-mounted torches.</p>
<p>The <em>Endar Spire</em>’s only other remaining survivor hadn’t fared so well. She hung limp in her harness, head lolling to one side. A cold thrill ran through him as he approached—<em>not another one</em>—but her next breath echoed in the yawning quiet.</p>
<p>With a sigh of relief, Carth reached up to check for injuries. “C’mon, time to wake up. We need to get out of here.”</p>
<p>Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t rouse. He couldn’t find any damage to her neck, but relief turned to ice in his stomach when he discovered the knot on the side of her head.</p>
<p><em>Frack</em>.</p>
<p>Carth scrounged for the emergency supply kit and slung the satchel over his aching shoulder. He punched the release mechanism on his companion’s harness, but the damn thing was jammed—</p>
<p>Outside, a distant siren wailed.</p>
<p>Filled with a sudden, frenzied energy, Carth cut through her harness with his boot knife. Gravity took care of the rest, and she slid bonelessly into his arms. There wasn’t enough space in the pod to sling her over his shoulders without cracking her head against something—again—but carrying her in his arms meant he couldn’t use his blasters. Gritting his teeth, Carth fought a wave of discomfort at being so defenceless.</p>
<p>Time to find out where they’d landed, exactly.</p>
<p>The hatch popped open, letting in a rush of warm, smoggy air and the lingering trace of ozone. The first thing he saw was the carbon-black streak of ruined tiles across the plaza, tracing their landing with excruciating precision. Above the plaza, the looming silhouettes of skyscrapers indicated they’d crashed in the uppermost tier of the city. They’d somehow scrounged enough luck to make planetfall on the night side of the planet, for all that was worth on a metropolitan world like Taris.</p>
<p>Carth took off for the cover of the nearest building. If the Sith were organised—and under Saul’s command, they would be—it was only a matter of time before squads hit the streets to hunt down survivors. Carth’s lungs burned with polluted air as he forced his stride to lengthen into a hasty lope, shoulders aching from the weight of the woman in his arms. He tried not to jostle her too much, but gentleness wouldn’t save her if they wound up in a holding cell.</p>
<p>The sky burned red and orange near the horizon, drawing the skyscrapers into sharp relief against the burning cloud cover. The streets were eerily quiet as he ducked into a shadowed alley. Planetary authorities must’ve ordered citizens to stay inside as soon as they registered the battle in orbit. Still, it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.</p>
<p>Shielded from the persistent wind that gusted across the walkways, residual heat from the buildings wallowed in the alley. Carth’s gaze roved from the alley entrances to the dark windows above, alert for any sign of movement. Sweat broke out across his skin from the unpleasant warmth, made worse by the dead weight of the woman pressed against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder; the soft exhales against his neck were the only reassurance he had that she was still alive. Despite the necessity, a part of him wanted to crawl away from the forced intimacy of close contact with another sent. He hadn’t held anyone like this since—</p>
<p>For a moment he could see another skyline, burning red against crumbling buildings. Gritting his teeth, Carth picked up his pace and did his best to ignore the nauseated lurch in his gut. No time to fall apart when someone was depending on him.</p>
<p>Down the street, a series of barricades warned passersby away from one particular apartment complex that loomed like a dark obelisk. Without any lights coming from the windows, it all but blended into the night, its silhouette a thing felt more than seen. Renovations in progress, the nearby sign proclaimed.</p>
<p>With a glance around to make sure no one was watching, Carth ducked around the barricades and headed for the door. Its control panel was dark. No power. Except on closer inspection, it turned out that the panel lights were covered with opaque tape.</p>
<p>Eyes narrowed, Carth tested a button. Something deep in the door’s mechanics groaned, but the portal slid open. Peering into the dark, he found nothing but the vague impressions of a lobby.</p>
<p>Another man may not have questioned his good luck, but Carth hesitated on the threshold. <em>Do I want to know why the door wasn’t locked?</em></p>
<p>A distant siren pierced the air. Followed by another, growing louder with every second.</p>
<p>Swearing, Carth shifted his hold on his charge to sling her across his shoulders. That way he could draw a blaster; its comfortable weight calmed his racing heart. When he crossed the threshold, the door slid neatly shut, absent the tell-tale click of a lock engaging.</p>
<p>Hefting his blaster, Carth stepped carefully as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The tiles beneath his feet were slippery with grit; the muted clack of each footstep seemed impossibly loud in the black, the sound echoing in a way that suggested a high ceiling. Dim light filtered through the windows, softly highlighting furniture pieces crouching like wraiths. Carth narrowly avoided bumping into the reception desk.</p>
<p>Through the windows, he could see pulses of light converging on the direction he’d come from. Local authorities had to have found the crash site by now. Probably other sites, too, and it burned that he could do nothing for the crewmen who would no doubt wind up in Sith hands. Not while his only companion was totally out of it.</p>
<p>Chased by the distant commotion, Carth found the turbolift and tried the buttons one by one until the panel registered the input. <em>FLOOR 53</em> blinked from the display in stuttering blue font. By the time the turbolift spat them out on what was presumably the fifty-third floor, a fresh ache had settled into all of Carth’s joints. Pain spiked through his left hand as he kept a grip on his companion’s wrist and ankle. On the upside, his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dinginess.</p>
<p>Another foyer reminiscent of the one on the ground floor, although this one was clearly made for the complex’s residents to mill around in while enduring the turbolift wait times. On either side of the lobby, two corridors gently curved away into shadow.</p>
<p>The woman slung across Carth’s shoulders made a soft noise, and he quietly shushed her before picking the left hallway.</p>
<p>All the doors he passed were locked, the red lights from the control panels watching him pass like so many eyes lining the corridor. Carth adjusted his grip on his blaster, but the hallway remained empty. The air was stale with a manufactured freshness that came from too many cycles through air scrubbers, flavoured with the same acrid bite as the breeze outside.</p>
<p>Motion in his peripheral, accompanied by a sharp hiss. He was aiming his blaster before it even registered that a nearby door had cracked open. The building’s dull lights cast more shadows than they alleviated, leaving only an impression of glimmering eyes before the door snapped shut.</p>
<p>Carth kept his blaster pointed at the door, heart thundering in his ears. It remained closed. Anxiety mounting, he backed up a few steps, then took off with all the speed he could muster without alerting the whole damn complex to his presence.</p>
<p>Halfway down the hallway, Carth realised that the face belonged to a Twi’lek.</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, that explains a thing or two...</em>
</p>
<p>Trying doors at random, he soon found an unlocked—and hopefully empty—apartment. He checked all the corners and the adjoining refresher before even thinking of relaxing. The space was cramped, with little more than a bed and a couch, but was also bereft of anything that might take issue with him squatting. Better yet, the apartment still had power and, he discovered, the windows were boarded.</p>
<p>Carth deposited his companion on the bed with all the gentleness he could muster, unearthing a plume of dust in the process. Under the grimy lights, her face had a waxen cast. Inky black hair, all but falling out of the tie at her nape, only made her seem all the paler.</p>
<p>She wasn’t in uniform, instead sporting a burgundy nerf leather jacket and armoured trousers. Since she clearly wasn’t a Jedi, that had to make her one of the mercenaries the Republic had taken to hiring to fill the gaps.</p>
<p>Carth sat heavily on the bed beside her. Every half-ignored ache and pain made themselves known with a screaming vengeance; for a moment, he could only suck in a breath and pinch the bridge of his nose. The enormity of the situation loomed over him. The <em>Endar Spire</em> lost, and with it three hundred souls—not to mention the Republic’s best hope of stopping Malak. And somewhere above him in orbit was Saul. Tauntingly close.</p>
<p>Hands curling into fists, Carth relished the bite of pain in his wrist. The phantom at his back was heavier than normal, made real with Saul’s proximity. The high, distant wail of sirens pierced the apartment walls like the reedy cries of a ghost, each one an accusation.</p>
<p>Anger coalesced into a hard knot in his chest, sitting beside the familiar weight of failure.</p>
<p>But there was one person he hadn’t yet failed. Looping one foot through the strap of the emergency supply kit, he dragged it towards the bed. When he set a medkit on the bedside table, the crisp smell of antiseptic cut through the stale, dusty haze.</p>
<p>In addition to the bump on her head, her ribs were cracked and her right shoulder was a bruised, swollen mess. The medisensor didn’t detect any fractures, thankfully. Carth did the best he could, although that amounted to little more than cleaning and sealing her various scrapes and burns, slapping on some kolto bandages, and taping her ribs. The kolto would ease the swelling welt on her head, but there was no telling whether she would fully recover from the blow. Or recover, period. If she never woke up—well, the least he could do was make her comfortable.</p>
<p>With no emergencies left to tend, Carth studied the unconscious woman. Underneath all the sweat and grime, her skin was a soft beige tone. She had a narrow face with evenly-set eyes, arching eyebrows, and low cheekbones. Her side-swept fringe was glued to her forehead with sweat. Numerous silver piercings glimmered in her ears. Carth wracked his brain for details, trying to match her face to the personnel records. What was the name? O-something, that reminded him of a constellation visible from home.</p>
<p>Orinn, Velire. One of the latest transfers. With the name came another niggling detail: the Jedi had requested her reassignment to the <em>Endar Spire</em>. At the last minute, no less.</p>
<p>He frowned down at her, hoping to conjure more details. A suitably long list of proficiencies and an unsuitably short list of prior postings. A new recruit, or so the records said, but it raised the question of why the Jedi took an interest in a nobody. Or what looked like a nobody.</p>
<p>Well, he wouldn’t be getting answers anytime soon. And in the meantime, she was still his responsibility.</p>
<p>Unconscious or no, she would probably be more comfortable out of her gear. Carth started with her weapons—vibroblade, blaster and a wicked-looking vibroknife—then her boots and fingerless gloves. Only then did he attempt to ease her out of her jacket. A jacket that, he discovered, was lined with a mesh underlay. When he managed that without giving her another head injury, he hesitated. Her pants hardly looked comfortable to sleep in, but, well, that one felt like crossing a line. He settled for unbuckling the knee pads to drop them on the growing pile beside the bed, then went for her belt—and paused.</p>
<p>Her belt wasn’t regular leather at all, but a stealth field generator.</p>
<p>Leaning back, Carth studied the woman again. <em>Who are you?</em></p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Carth awoke all at once, heart racing. Eyes burning and crusted with sleep. One hand reached for a blaster as he scanned the room, hunting for the source of the disturbance.</p>
<p>From the bed, Velire groaned again.</p>
<p>Carth was on his feet in a flash. She half-rolled, fingers flexing in the sheets, and lurched upright.</p>
<p>He rested a hand on her collarbones. It took a worrying amount of pressure to push her down. As reassuring as he could manage, he said, “Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Don’t try to get up yet. You were smashed up pretty bad when we crash-landed.”</p>
<p>Her anxious gaze landed on him, but there was no spark of recognition. No sign she registered his presence.</p>
<p>
  <em>Lights are on, but nobody’s home…</em>
</p>
<p>Fighting a chill, Carth continued, “Don’t worry, we should be safe here in this apartment. Just get some rest and let the kolto packs do their job.”</p>
<p>Her eyelids fluttered, and he felt her resistance bleed away as her breathing evened out.</p>
<p>When she settled back into sleep, Carth ran a hand over his face. The cold feeling slithered through his gut, twisting itself into a hard knot. He couldn’t leave Velire on her own, that much was clear, but he couldn’t stay put and do nothing, either. Not when the Sith were out in force, hunting for survivors.</p>
<p>Carth drew in several careful breaths, aware of the lingering twinge in his ribs. His back ached fiercely from sleeping on the too-short couch. With no external measure of time, he didn’t know how long he sat there. The events of the last twenty-four hours looped endlessly through his mind, a litany of disaster after disaster. Being drawn into the Sith ambush. The <em>Leviathan </em>dropping out of hyperspace on their flank. Barely enough time to mount any kind of defence, let alone strike at Saul.</p>
<p>Carth’s mouth was dry and tasted of metal. <em>Should’ve seen that one coming, </em>he thought bitterly.</p>
<p>The seething mass in his chest made it difficult to breathe as he pictured Saul’s satisfaction at the flawless execution of his ambush. Even now, Saul was on the brink of the only victory his master cared about. Carth sure as hell didn’t intend on giving him the opportunity to hand Bastila over to Malak.</p>
<p>
  <em>You have your duty, soldier. The Republic can’t fall. Now get up.</em>
</p>
<p>Sitting down had allowed the muscles in his legs to congeal, and Carth fought the newest ache as he stood. He all but fled to the refresher, familiar monsters snapping at his heels.</p>
<p>The ‘fresher was cramped, the shower itself little more than a faucet stuck into the wall, but by some stroke of fortune, the complex had access to hot water. He lost track of how long he stood in the shower, letting the warm if uneven stream of recycled water cascade over his aching shoulders, washing away blood and grime and the lingering stench of smoke.</p>
<p>Feeling a little less wrung out afterwards, Carth turned his attention to the emergency kit to catalogue their supplies. Medpacs, ration bars, water canisters, power cells, blankets. Enough to last them a few days, although he remained keenly aware that the situation couldn’t last.</p>
<p>His gaze travelled back to Velire, who was quiet and still.</p>
<p>No better time to get his bearings, and he’d only be gone for a few minutes at most.</p>
<p>Locking the apartment door behind him, Carth ventured down the corridor, passing the occasional resident. All were aliens like the Twi’lek he’d seen earlier. Across from the turbolift, a cracked screen playing the Taris Holofeed flashed with the words <em>BREAKING NEWS. </em>When Carth took a step forward, it unfortunately attracted the attention of several residents. A pair of Duros cut off their conversation to fix him with bulbous red stares, while an Aqualish twisted in place as if ready to intercept him.</p>
<p>Neck prickling, Carth raised his hands in a universal sign of peace. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”</p>
<p>Several pairs of assessing eyes rested on him. Carth could sense the calculations underway, determining that there was only one reason why a Human was suddenly squatting with aliens—and that it was in their mutual best interest to pretend nobody saw each other. No-one stopped him from joining the congregation of sents around the viewscreen, at least.</p>
<p>A plasteel-perfect newscaster appeared on the screen, eyes empty and voice gratingly pleasant. <em>“The Taris Civil Authority has just announced that it will cooperate with the Sith Empire’s investigation of Republic fugitives who have infiltrated the planet. A planet-wide quarantine is now in effect, with all ships prohibited from landing or taking off. Every level of the city is on lockdown. Citizens are advised to cooperate with Sith officers during their investigation...”</em></p>
<p>—</p>
<p>The rest of the day was spent pacing a hole in the apartment’s already threadbare carpet. Velire was equally restless, tossing and turning until she made a straitjacket of the sheets. More than once, Carth had to untangle her sweaty limbs only for her roll straight onto her still-healing shoulder.</p>
<p>She woke up twice, just long enough for Carth to give her some water before she sank back into whatever nightmare awaited her. Even now, he found his gaze drawn to her, snapping towards movement whenever she thrashed, or lingering on her blank face when she was quiet. Low sounds rumbled through the apartment walls, punctuated by the occasional screech of a surveillance drone passing by outside, warning citizens to remain compliant. As if compliance would save them from the might of the Sith armada in orbit. Endless patrols roamed the streets, a silver stream of insects crawling through every skyscraper in their search.</p>
<p>Carth continued to pace the tight stretch of the apartment, but it only wound him up instead of bleeding off any restlessness. In the late hours of the day, he had enough of being cooped up. Finding a stack of credits in Velire’s jacket pocket, he decided to take a risk.</p>
<p>To be safe, he gave Velire a sedative to help her sleep. The last thing he needed was her rolling out of bed and cracking her head on the bedside table, or worse, fleeing the apartment in a panic. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel vaguely guilty about it, and he made sure she was comfortable before he left.</p>
<p>With a final check to make sure nothing in his appearance gave away his loyalties, Carth ventured onto the streets. It was easy enough to lose himself in the evening traffic. The locals weren’t too concerned by the Sith presence, but it took every scrap of self-control he possessed to pass patrols in the street and keep his blasters holstered.</p>
<p>Downloading a district map from an information kiosk, he made his way to the nearest cantina, following the trail of neon signage and other incoming patrons. In the cantina, he was just another grouchy, grounded spacer crowding the place. The perfect cover to keep one ear to the ground without compromising himself, although he still kept a wary eye on the crowd. No one bothered him as he scarfed down a hot meal and eavesdropped on the next table over.</p>
<p>“—can’t believe they blocked access to the Middle City! It’s not like there are any reports of Republics—”</p>
<p>“Keep your voice down! You want the Sith tossing us in a holding cell as well?”</p>
<p>Scowling into his drink, Carth quietly hoped the first speaker wouldn’t, in fact, keep her voice down.</p>
<p>A third voice: “The pods that crashed in the Undercity may as well have been gift-wrapped for the swoop gangs. If the Sith want to cut down the gang problem, I don’t see a problem with that.”</p>
<p>“Mouths shut, all of you!”</p>
<p>Unfortunately, they obeyed this time and migrated to a topic slightly less likely to catch the attention of any bored off-duty Sith nearby. Carth decided he’d pushed his luck enough for one day and made his way back to the rundown complex.</p>
<p>The apartment door was still locked, thankfully. Not so thankfully, Velire was thrashing around on the mattress, dangerously close to tipping over the edge.</p>
<p>Racing to the bed, Carth scooped her out of harm’s way. “Easy. Easy. It’s okay, you’re safe here. That’s it…”</p>
<p>It took several minutes for her to settle down, and even then he could see her eyes moving under her eyelids as she mumbled incoherently. With a knot in his stomach, Carth took stock of the medkit’s supply of sedatives. Enough to keep her under for a couple of days, maybe. Provided he could keep his outings short enough to get back before each dose wore off—and if he had to venture into the Undercity, that was quite the gamble.</p>
<p>But if he found Bastila, maybe she knew some mind tricks that could help with Velire’s condition. As much as he hated the thought of leaving her helpless, there was a very real chance that even if she did wake up, her cognitive functions would be impaired. Maybe permanently.</p>
<p>If he prioritised Velire, it could cost the Republic Bastila. If he prioritised Bastila, it could cost Velire’s life. But if he waited too long, it would likely cost both of them their lives.</p>
<p>Carth swallowed hard. One more day, then. If Velire still hadn’t recovered, he had to take action.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Velire lurched upright, reeling away from the enemy that pinned her arms to her sides. The world spun and she landed on the floor with a vertiginous jolt. A bite of adrenaline burned away enough of the haze that she could thrash against her bindings. It took precious seconds to realise she was wrestling with a blanket.</p><p>Blood pounding in her ears, Velire scanned her surroundings. A nondescript apartment, slightly on the grimy side, with no clue as to where she was or how she got here.</p><p>Motion in her peripheral; her head snapped up while she renewed her struggle to free her arms. A fair-skinned Human man emerged from the refresher, alert and scanning the room. When his dark gaze landed on her, he stepped forward—</p><p>“Back up!” Velire raised her one free arm to ward him off.</p><p>He stopped, raising his hands. “Easy, easy. You’re safe here. I’m Carth Onasi. We escaped the <em>Endar Spire</em>, remember?”</p><p>Past the pounding in her skull, flashes of fire and blaring klaxons echoed through her mind. The man was vaguely familiar; it itched at her. “Onasi… the commander?”</p><p>“That’s right. Do you remember your name?”</p><p>The wording made her pause. “What kind of question is that?”</p><p>His voice remained level as he said, “You took a nasty smack to your head and frankly I wasn’t sure you’d even wake up. You’re probably concussed at the very least. I just want to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage.”</p><p>A chill ran through her at the words ‘lasting damage’. “Velire Orinn.”</p><p>Carth nodded, more to himself than her, and lowered his hands. “It’s good to see you awake instead of thrashing about in your sleep.”</p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p>“On Taris, in an abandoned apartment. You were banged up pretty bad in the crash, so I imagine you must be pretty confused about things. How about we get you off the floor and I’ll explain everything that’s happened?”</p><p>Velire considered him with narrowed eyes. Her skull pounded in concert with the bone-deep throb in her right shoulder, to say nothing of the fresh aches where she’d landed on the floor.</p><p>Pragmatism won out, between her various assortment of injuries and the knowledge that she’d already been at his mercy for stars knew how long. “All right.”</p><p>To Carth’s credit, he waited until she agreed to approach her. Kneeling by her side, he scooped her up blanket and all with a detached efficiency and set her on the bed. He didn’t immediately back up, though, instead taking a moment to check her over. She heard him mutter, “If you’ve hit your head again, so help me…”</p><p>Velire leaned away from the hand running over the side of her head. “That’s enough. Just tell me what’s going on.”</p><p>Carth perched on the edge of the bed. “Since ambushing the <em>Endar Spire</em>, the Sith have declared martial law and established a planet-wide quarantine while they hunt down survivors. Their focus is on Bastila Shan, but I’m sure they won’t say no to any other Republic personnel they can get their hands on.”</p><p>Velire frowned. <em>Well this keeps getting better and better. </em>“So we need to figure out a way to run through the entire fleet in orbit? I’m assuming waiting out the quarantine isn’t an option.”</p><p>Leaning over to the nightstand, Carth swiped a canister of water and passed it to her. “It isn’t. The quarantine won’t be lifted until the Sith capture or kill Bastila, and I for one don’t intend to let that happen.”</p><p>“Right…” Velire gratefully accepted the water to wash the sticky taste from her mouth. When she’d drained the canister, she turned her attention to her bandage-wrapped shoulder and the pain weaselling to the forefront of her mind.</p><p>“Here, let me take a look.” As Carth loosened the dressing to poke at the healing bruises, he continued, “I’ve heard rumours of other escape pods landing in the Undercity in this district. If we’re lucky, we might make contact with other survivors as we search for Bastila.”</p><p>Velire arched an eyebrow. “That’s the plan, is it?”</p><p>“As soon as you’re ready to move out, yes. Bastila’s battle meditation is the only reason the Republic has lasted this long against the Sith.”</p><p>Great. Of all the survivors to be stuck with, she had to get the dutiful one. “How do you know she’s even alive?”</p><p>Carth’s gaze darkened. “I don’t, but the fact the Sith are still hunting for her means she hasn’t been confirmed dead. We managed to survive and she has the advantage of a powerful command of the Force, so it’s not outrageous to assume she’s still alive.”</p><p>“Since this Bastila is a Jedi, she’d probably have a better chance of getting herself out of this mess than we would.”</p><p>His expression matured into a full scowl. “If the entire Sith garrison wasn’t gunning for her, maybe. But they won’t be looking for a couple of grunts like us, as long as we keep our heads down.”</p><p>Velire liked the direction of this conversation less and less. “Won’t the Sith deploy Dark Jedi to find her?”</p><p>He grimaced. “It’s entirely possible, but no matter what, we have to do everything we can to stop the Sith from taking Bastila. They kill her, that’s bad enough, but if they…” He stopped, hands clenched at his sides. “Well, that isn’t happening. Not on my watch.”</p><p>Velire ran a hand over her face, pushing her hair out of her eyes. As much as she didn’t like it, her best shot of escaping Taris involved sticking with Carth and helping him run the blockade, even if his worryingly noble streak had a decent chance of getting them both killed. She sure wasn’t in any condition to strike out on her own, and the Sith wouldn’t care why exactly she’d ended up serving on the <em>Spire</em>. She wore the Republic’s colours, and was marked for death the same as the rest of the crew.</p><p>Velire fought a sigh. “I guess I owe you my life, anyway.”</p><p>Carth’s eyes narrowed at her less than enthusiastic agreement, but he said, “We need to work together if we’re going to find Bastila and make it off Taris alive… but for now, you should get some rest. You’re looking a little pale—”</p><p>The sound of muffled blaster fire cut through the room. Moments later, the apartment’s door panel started blinking.</p><p>Their eyes met. A half-second passed, then they scrambled into action. Carth dragged her to the floor, concealing her from the intruders’ line of sight, before racing to take position beside the door.</p><p>Wrangling free of the blankets, Velire cast about for anything she could use. The door hissed open; blaster fire erupted. A body thumped to the ground, followed by a meaty smack and a grunt.</p><p>A thrill of fear ran along her nerves. Shifting on her elbows, her arm bumped against something—her own belongings piled right behind her. Grabbing her stealth belt, blaster and vibroknife, she rolled under the bed.</p><p>“What have we here?” a man sneered. “A Human hiding with aliens? No doubt a Republic fugitive!”</p><p>Another thump, and Carth grunted again. Velire didn’t dare peek out from under the bed. Instead she fought her spinning head to focus on buckling her belt as silently as possible.</p><p>“Where are your fellow crewmen? How many survived? Answer me, and some of them might just live.”</p><p>“Go to hell!”</p><p>A meaty crack like the butt of a blaster rifle connecting with bone, punctuated by a chuckle. “Republics are like rats. They always congregate in the most foul places. Take him outside. I’ll search the rest of the apartment. Kill him if you must, but I’d rather live prisoners to show the governor.”</p><p>The sound of a body being dragged almost masked the softer footfalls of the encroaching Sith officer. Closing her eyes, Velire listened for the officer as he ventured further into the apartment. Once he was away from the door, Velire dared to peek out.</p><p>One silver-armoured Sith was dead on the ground, tendrils of smoke trailing from her blaster burns. Another patroller had dragged Carth into the hallway, pressing the muzzle of a blaster to the blooming bruise on his jaw.</p><p>Velire bit back a curse. She couldn’t just shoot the Sith in case his finger jerked on the trigger. Which left only one option.</p><p>When the officer circled around the bed, she activated her stealth belt and eased forward. It was a risky maneuver with everyone’s attention focused on the room, but she crawled out of her hiding place—</p><p>A sharp intake of breath behind her. “Look!”</p><p>Velire froze. Every thought in her head screamed to a halt.</p><p>But no blaster bolt struck her back. “Someone else’s personal effects. There’s at least one more in here.”</p><p>Velire unwound muscle by muscle, her blood ringing in her ears. Adrenaline burned cold on her tongue. The world spun sickeningly as she rose in a half-crouch, and she made for the nearest wall. Out of their immediate sight lines, she followed the length of the wall, silent in socked feet. She skirted around the dead Sith to reach the doorway.</p><p>Three metres of open space between her and the patroller holding Carth. Neither of them noticed the faint distortion of her stealth field, even though Carth’s tight, anxious gaze was fixed on the prowling officer. Velire risked a glance over her shoulder to see the officer investigating the refresher.</p><p>It was the best chance she’d get.</p><p>Before Velire could move, a fresh swirl of nausea sent a cascade of stars across her vision. The world lurched, and she clutched at the door frame for support. A cold sweat broke out across her skin.</p><p>Footfalls approached behind her. “Nothing in the refresher. Where are you…”</p><p>Hefting her vibroknife in a backhanded grip, Velire punched through the veil of stars to lunge for the Sith patroller. <span>She curled</span><span> her fingers around the barrel of the blaster, </span><span>yanking </span><span>it away from Carth’s head. </span>As the stealth field shivered away, she jammed the vibroknife into the gap between the patroller’s helmet and his gorget. The Sith stiffened and crumpled.</p><p>Barely a moment to meet Carth’s surprised gaze when a shout rang out from the apartment. “I’ll kill you both!”</p><p>Velire whirled to face the furious officer. No cover, no defence, only grey tendrils warping the corners of her vision—</p><p>A blaster barked twice, and the officer fell backwards. Beside her, Carth lowered her own blaster, plucked off her hip.</p><p>With the immediate danger past, Velire’s strength fled. Another wash of heat ran through her, rippling from the top of her head down to her toes, followed by a chilled sweat. The pain in her shoulder ratcheted up, sending white-hot sparks through her nerves.</p><p>A hand curled around her elbow, and she cracked her eyes open to focus on Carth. He watched her in concern. “Are you all right?”</p><p>“Fine.” She sucked in one breath, two. “What about you?”</p><p>A bruise was already darkening his jaw and he held himself with the gingerness of someone who’d taken a stun baton to the gut, but he said, “I’ll live. That was some quick thinking, Orinn.”</p><p>Locking her knees, she leaned back against the bracing coolness of the wall. “I had a feeling that your bedside manner is lightyears ahead of theirs.” She delicately nudged the dead patroller with one foot. At some point, she’d have to find her boots. Preferably before any blood soaked into her socks.</p><p>Carth chuckled once, low and hard. “Depends on whether or not you like being woken up every morning by neuroshocks.” His gaze slid past her shoulder and he tensed, hefting the blaster in his grip.</p><p>Velire followed his gaze to see the neighbouring apartments wide open, their residents having also been dragged out to the hallway. Her skin prickled at the weight of so many eyes resting on her. <em>So much for keeping our heads down...</em></p><p>“Are there any more of them?” she called.</p><p><em>“That was all of this patrol,”</em> a nearby Duros answered from where he crouched beside a fellow. With a twist in her stomach, Velire realised the second Duros had been shot dead. <em>“Smug murglaks.”</em></p><p>She said, “I’m sorry about your friend. If there was anything we could have done…”</p><p>The Duros sighed.<em> “At least his killers paid for it.”</em></p><p>Carth cut in, low and sharp, “We have to move on as soon as possible. It’s not safe here.” Even as he said it, he eyed her with veiled concern. They both knew she couldn’t go far in her current state.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, Velire turned back to the Duros. “I, uh, don’t suppose you happen to know any decent places to lie low for a while?”</p><p>The Duros looked her up and down. His assessment was clearly similar to Carth’s, as he said, <em>“A few, but your best bet would be Dr Zelka Forn’s clinic. He’ll treat anyone, even aliens, no questions asked.”</em></p><p>Ignoring Carth’s sharp look, she said, “Thank you. We’ll get out of here as soon as we can. That way we aren’t putting you people at risk any longer.”</p><p><em>“We’re at risk no matter what,”</em> the Duros said bluntly. <em>“The Sith could drag us away whether or not we know anything, and no one will stop them.”</em></p><p>As the various sentients started returning to their apartments, Carth pulled Velire back to their own room and sat her on the bed.</p><p>“You stay put,” he ordered, then moved across the living space in a whirlwind, gathering all their belongings.</p><p>Velire didn’t object, mostly because her head was protesting her continued verticality. “Are we going to this clinic, then?”</p><p>Carth grimaced. “It’s a risk. Who knows if that Duros was telling the truth or not.”</p><p>“You think that after seeing that patrol murder his friend, he’s going to send us into a Sith ambush?”</p><p>“No, but he has no reason to help us, either.” Carth tossed her remaining belongings on the bed beside her.</p><p>“Whatever. I don’t care. As long as we aren’t here when another patrol arrives…”</p><p>Velire sat, congealing, with her head in her hands. Another wave of vertigo washed over her, worsening with every passing second. Somehow it reminded her of the time the <em>Silent Venture</em>’s gravity generator had shorted out intermittently, leaving her disoriented and suddenly weightless. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it offered no defence against the high-pitched ringing in her ears.</p><p>When the tide of white noise receded, she realised Carth was standing over her, conflict plain on his face. At last, he said, “We’ll get you to the clinic.”</p><p>—</p><p>Velire spent two days in Dr Zelka Forn’s clinic, sequestered away in a concealed back room that housed a dozen other survivors from the <em>Spire</em>. According to the good doctor, none of them were likely to recover. In her hours of wakefulness, she hated seeing the glow of the kolto tanks throw odd shapes across the walls. At least she could escape into sleep; Carth didn’t even have that, and spent most of his time pacing the length of the room, occasionally pausing by one of the tanks.</p><p>Velire tried to ignore the fact that she knew a few faces, despite her best efforts to ignore the crew. Lieutenant Prine, Malanis Beru from Engineering, Mess Officer Jit Morker. From Carth’s haunted gaze, she suspected he knew every single name. She didn’t ask.</p><p>Bad enough that even when Velire rolled over to face the wall, that luminous white-blue still bled through her eyelids, following her into restless sleep. The confusing mess of dreams she’d had since the crash took on another dimension, the dreamscape shifting more than once to submerge her in a numbing cold while silhouettes on the other side of the glass murmured she was lost, no matter how she kicked and struggled.</p><p>No, there was no forgetting how close she’d come to joining the other servicemen in the kolto tanks, withering away their last days in a sedative-soaked oblivion. Worse, there was nothing to distract Velire from worrying about the battery of tests Zelka ran to determine the scope of the damage from her head injury. Not even the sudden headaches could drive every thought from her mind; instead they crystallised her fear into a single focus.</p><p>What if the headaches never went away? What if something in her brain was broken? Would she even know how she’d changed? Some survivors of head trauma became a whole different person after waking up.</p><p>Every day, morning and evening—or what Velire assumed was morning and evening—Zelka asked the same series of questions. Simple things, like what day it was and what she remembered before and after the crash. Despite knowing it was the only way to ascertain what memory functions she had left, the daily questionnaires frustrated her. Especially once she realised Zelka wasn’t the only one administering them.</p><p>“Do you mind if I ask you something?”</p><p>Velire looked up from her game of solitaire spread across the blanket. Carth was pacing. Again. “Go ahead.”</p><p>He slowed to a halt in front of Morker’s kolto tank. Velire tried not to look over his shoulder at the suspended Aqualish. “I read in your service record that you understand a number of alien languages. Can you tell me what languages you speak?”</p><p>Velire canted her head to one side. “If you read my service record, you’d know which ones they are.” When he merely cocked a challenging eyebrow at her, she sighed. “That’s an unfair question. I couldn’t list them all off the top of my head on a normal day.”</p><p>“As many as you can, then.”</p><p>Fighting another sigh, she relented. “Well, Basic for starters. Obviously. Let’s see, I know Huttese, Twi’leki, Ithorese, Rodian, Durese...” She frowned, counting off on her fingers. “Shyriiwook, Mando’a, Catharese… uh...”</p><p>Carth nodded, more to himself than her. “Good enough.”</p><p>“Any particular reason you’re asking?”</p><p>“Just trying to get a handle on you, is all. I don’t think I even saw you more than a couple of times on the <em>Spire</em>.”</p><p>That son of a schutta. A swell of consternation washed through her at the realisation that he’d just played her, to see if her answers matched what he already knew. “I’m sure everything you needed to know was in my service record, which you seem to remember off the top of your head.”</p><p>Carth chuckled once, without true amusement. “There are always gaps in the official records, and it’s my job to fill them in.”</p><p>Velire returned to her solitaire game. “Right. Have fun with that.”</p><p>“No need to get bent out of shape. It’s just a few questions, nothing difficult.”</p><p>Despite Carth’s casual tone, something made her look up again. A quiet instinct—one that had kept her alive through many sour deals—gave her pause. “I’m not one of your ensigns, Commander.”</p><p>He didn’t relent. “Exactly. You aren’t, and that’s why I’m curious. Just what was your position on the <em>Spire</em>, anyway?”</p><p>“I’m a specialist with the Navy. I do whatever needs doing when there isn’t anyone else to do it. And given how short-handed the Fleet is, that’s a lot.”</p><p>Carth considered her with a sceptical eye. The glow from the nearest tank rimmed one side of his face in white-blue light, but his furrowed brow cast a shadow over his eyes. “And what did you do before that? The way you handled the apartment raid, I’d wager you’re no stranger to tight situations.”</p><p>“I was a smuggler, if you must know.” If he’d read her service record, surely that little detail was stamped in bold font right up the top, so every officer knew to sneer at her?</p><p>Carth’s brow furrowed further, something she hadn’t believed was possible. “And what exactly makes a smuggler decide to throw in with the Republic?”</p><p>Velire gave him her emptiest smile. “A tale as old as time: my partners left me high and dry so the authorities could corner me. Luckily I have skills that are useful in the war. I was offered clemency in return for serving the Republic.”</p><p>Carth paused, head half-cocked and eyes narrowed. At last, he said, “You know, I’m not sure what else I expected.”</p><p>For the first time, it occurred to Velire what it meant to be stranded on Taris with none other than <em>Commander Onasi</em>. She fought a groan. “I’m not sure what you expected, either.”</p><p>She was saved from any further retort by Zelka’s arrival. As soon as he declared her fit to leave with no significant physical or mental impairment, she was packed and ready to go.</p><p>“No time like the present.” Velire checked her gear one last time, and was pleased that her shoulder barely twinged anymore. “I believe we have a certain somebody to track down.”</p><p>If Carth held any lingering irritation at their earlier conversation, then nothing in his expression betrayed it. “That we do. Let’s move out, soldier.”</p><p>“Keep that up and I’m going AWOL.”</p><p>—</p><p>Once, Taris lived up to its name of ‘the Coruscant of the Outer Rim’. It still did at first glance—majestic constructions challenged the heavens while endless speeder lanes glittered overhead like strings of jewels. Endless cool breezes bled off the sun’s heat as they whistled along open plazas vibrant with foot traffic. The locals seemed unconcerned by the Sith presence, if they could even see so far down their noses to notice the planet was occupied by an offworld power. Across the promenade, a green flash through the crowd caught Velire’s eye; a well-dressed man walked his feathered dog, heedless of any passing Sith patrols.</p><p>But one didn’t have to look hard to notice the grand arches of Taris’s skyscrapers were dulled by smog stains and scarred by centuries of acidic showers. Despite the dense network of footbridges and speeder lanes as far as the eye could see, the traffic was overwhelmingly Human, unlike Coruscant’s veritable melting pot of sentient species. While Taris had been in decline for decades if not centuries, the withdrawal of key corporate interests, followed by the carnage of the Mandalorian occupation, had landed blows the planet never recovered from. And the Sith fleet hanging in orbit certainly didn’t improve anything.</p><p>All in all, not the worst planet Velire had ever been stuck on, but still somewhere relatively low on the list.</p><p>Their first order of business was to find a way to replenish their supply of credits. If Carth was in any way resentful of the fact Velire’s medical bills had all but drained them, he kept his face clear of it.</p><p>As Carth led the way toward the nearest cantina, avoiding Sith patrols whenever they could, Velire took the opportunity to study him. His hands were never far from his blasters and he strode forward with shoulders squared, looking a little too much like a soldier for her comfort. He was endlessly scanning their surroundings, stoic but for the hint of a frown that never quite left his face. It was little more than a persistent crease between his eyebrows, but his gaze was sharp enough to laser through durasteel. At least his less-than-friendly expression warded off most passersby. </p><p>No matter how Velire tried to quash the feeling, she found herself unnerved that they were on such unequal footing. First he apparently knew her service record backwards, then he spent a week nursing her back to health for no discernible reason. He had all the high numbers in this round, and she didn’t like it.</p><p>As they turned onto a quieter footbridge, Velire leaned closer to Carth so her voice wouldn’t carry. “So what’s your story, then? Fair’s fair, after all.”</p><p>Carth blinked at the sudden question. “Me? Well, I’ve been a star-pilot for twenty years. Served in the Mandalorian Wars before this mess with the Sith.”</p><p>Velire eyed him sidelong. “Aren’t you some kind of hotshot in the Navy? You’re rather humble for a war hero.”</p><p>“I’m not in this for the glory. I’m here to do my duty, nothing more.”</p><p>She fought the urge to sigh. Damn Republics and their noble streaks. “But if you earn a few more medals, surely you can melt them down to make a life-sized statue of yourself.”</p><p>Carth scoffed. “I’m sorry that some of us believe in higher ideals than how many creds we can make from piracy.”</p><p>“Piracy? You wound me, Commander. I only dealt in legitimate salvage.”</p><p>His voice was drier than a Tatooine breeze. “In my experience, scoundrels have a rather loose sense of ‘legitimate’.”</p><p>“More like a nose for bargains.”</p><p>Carth pulled her to a halt on the street, contempt creeping into his tone. “And how many <em>bargains</em> have you acquired from innocent traders? The Republic?”</p><p>She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I only dealt in legitimate salvage. Now let’s get on with it.”</p><p>He clenched his jaw. “Fine.”</p><p>Velire resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Already she could sense another headache coming on.</p><p>She couldn’t get off Taris fast enough.</p><p>In the descending evening, the sky was painted with thin gaseous bands, scarcely visible behind the shadowed monoliths of the skyscrapers. The streets dulled to a soft grey, broken by distant pinpoints of neon signage. It was the perfect time to get lost in the crowd. Carth led the way to the closest cantina, and she was more than happy to flag several steps behind. Hell, she half-expected him to discreetly push her off one of the walkways. But he didn’t, and she also didn’t fail to notice that he always put himself between her and any passing Sith patrols, blocking her from their line of sight with his broad shoulders.</p><p>A knot of tension coiled in her gut as she waited for the other shoe to drop. Even Damiel and Sedaya had left her for dead, after all.</p><p>When the cantina’s impressive signage came into view, Carth held out a hand to halt her. “Hold on a sec. What’s our plan, here?”</p><p>“<em>Our </em>plan? I was going to scope the place out, see if there are any jobs on offer. You can do… whatever you like, I guess.”</p><p>“Cut the phobium already,” Carth snapped. “This attitude of yours isn’t remotely helpful. We need to be careful, and I’m not convinced you’re capable of that.”</p><p>For all her irritation, Velire realised she should stop antagonising him<span> so he’d be less likely to leave her to die at an inopportune moment</span>. Drawing in a breath, she let her shoulders drop. “You’re right. I’m just... used to flying solo.” Since her partners cut her out of their little operation, at least.</p><p>“You and me both, sister. But we’re only going to make it off-world by working together.”</p><p>“Correct. So I’d appreciate it if you’d stop glaring at me like you think I’m about to shove a vibroknife in your neck.”</p><p>Carth held up his hands, but didn’t lose the sharp edge to his tone. “In my defence, I got a front row seat to you doing exactly that to someone.”</p><p>Unable to help herself, Velire shot him a wide smile, showing her teeth. “Pray I don’t see the need for a repeat performance.” It was entirely the wrong response to make said glaring stop, but his poorly-concealed contempt was grating on her nerves.</p><p>Carth grabbed her arm as she turned away. That scowl was no doubt now permanently soldered to his face. “Just keep a low profile, all right?”</p><p>“What do you take me for? A smuggler who doesn’t know how to lie low in a cantina?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, Velire is a complete brat. Please bear with her for the time being.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Velire tried to ignore the itch between her shoulder blades as Davik Kang led her party on a tour of his estate. Grandiose was an understatement when his Upper City lodgings could humble the penthouse of any Core World senator. The great hall alone, bedecked with an actual throne, spanned three storeys floor to ceiling and was wide enough to fit an entire Lower City marketplace with room to spare. No doubt copious bribes kept the local constable from knocking on his door.</p><p>Velire’s boots clicked against intricate marble tilework imported from Alderaan as she followed Davik through a network of galleries, showcasing the spoils of a lifetime of crime, in between the more mundane facilities of an Exchange boss. Davik himself was a study of contradictions, fastidiously groomed to the point one could mistake him for a senator provided they didn’t look neck-down at the ornate suit of combat armour he wore. He was what Sedaya would have called ‘stylishly dressed’, discreetly armed instead of showing off his no doubt impressive arsenal. Perhaps he believed being openly armed would be impolite when escorting guests through his estate. Perhaps it was a warning that his security would eliminate any threats before he even had time to draw a weapon. Or perhaps it was simply the refined arrogance of an old, unrivalled monarch.</p><p>Even Davik’s voice somehow balanced on a razor’s edge between a smooth, cultured articulation and the conceited drawl of a crime lord. “As you can see, my personal armoury is equipped with some of the most dangerous weapons known to the galaxy, and I have the most experienced enforcers to match.”</p><p>Velire made a suitably impressed noise and on they went to the next grim sight.</p><p>There was a certain irony to once again taking up the mantle of a smuggler, but it made for the galaxy’s easiest cover story. Even so, it didn’t feel the way it used to, and not just because she had no intention of smuggling anything except Bastila off Taris.</p><p>Instead of Damiel lumbering beside her with his handsome Near-Human features, Carth marched with squared shoulders, eyes everywhere and one hand resting on his belt near a blaster. Velire still expected to glimpse Sedaya out of the corner of her eye, the Arkanian offshoot little more than a silver wraith as she guarded their backs. Zaalbar made for a far less subtle if equally silent rearguard. Maybe it was a mistake to assume his loyalty, but Velire had enough confidence in the life debt that his presence at her back was reassuring.</p><p>With Carth and Zaalbar as her ‘smuggling partners’, they could pretend that her little operation was trapped on Taris by the quarantine. That way she didn’t have to infiltrate Davik’s estate with only Canderous and his unproven reliability for company. The fact that he didn’t wear traditional <em>beskar’gam</em> out of respect for the disarmament suggested he did maintain a sense of honour, albeit a distinctly Mandalorian one. But Velire also hadn’t protested too loudly when Bastila insisted she take backup.</p><p>And maybe Velire enjoyed the irony of the honourable Commander Carth Onasi having to pose as a smuggler. They still weren’t talking after a spectacular blowout when he’d accused her—however implicitly—of instigating the ambush on the <em>Endar Spire</em>. But he’d still demanded to come with her and Bastila had agreed that his piloting skills would be necessary.</p><p>So here they were, ambling beside the sector’s most notorious Exchange boss while he led them to his personal hangar. As the doors swept open, Velire had to fight down an awed laugh. The small Dynamic-class freighter was all elegant red and silver angles, its paint job hinting at prior affiliations. It was easily the most beautiful ship she had ever laid eyes on.</p><p>Beside her, Carth whistled. “It’s a crime to ground a ship like that…”</p><p>“Indeed,” Davik replied. “This is my pride and joy, the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>. She’s the fastest ship in the Outer Rim, able to outrun any vessel in the galaxy. Although I’m afraid not even she could outmatch the laser cannons of the orbiting Sith fleet.”</p><p>“Now that’s a shame,” Velire said. “She’s truly magnificent.”</p><p>The <em>Ebon Hawk</em> put the <em>Silent Venture</em> to shame. No competition.</p><p>“I am, of course, working to procure the Sith departure codes so I can come and go as I please. But for the moment, we should continue on.”</p><p>On their way back through the estate, Velire worked to memorise their route to the hangar, making a note of the guard rotations and security systems. Canderous no doubt knew the estate and its security like the back of his hand, but there was no harm in a contingency. No doubt Carth was doing the same—he could be counted on for that much.</p><p>As Davik led them to yet another wing of the estate, he said, “Many have killed to earn a place on the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>, but I handpick the crew roster. Only my most trusted employees are given a position on the ship. I cannot stress the importance of subordinates who can complete every job without hesitation or mistake.”</p><p>Velire arched a cool eyebrow. “I never cut out of a deal, Mr Kang.”</p><p>“That’s what I like to hear. Canderous tells me that you have some prior experience in the business. Might I enquire what you specialise in?”</p><p>“I’ll be honest, I always preferred escorting nuts-and-bolts or black boxes to, say, sweets-and-seasonings.”</p><p>Davik arched an eyebrow, and not just at her deal-slang. “Well, well. Most would find spice the easier job over transporting military equipment.”</p><p>She ignored Carth’s sharp gaze now attempting to laser through the back of her neck. “What can I say? The Sith often forget to lock their warehouses.”</p><p>Davik laughed. “I appreciate that kind of daring, my dear. You could go far in the Exchange, I’m certain.”</p><p>Velire bequeathed him with her most charming smile. “That’s the plan.”</p><p>“Then it’s decided. You’ll remain here as my guest while I conduct a background check—standard procedure, you understand.”</p><p>“I’d be delighted to accept, Mr Kang, as long as my boys stay with me.”</p><p>“Of course, of course. Your business partners are welcome, provided they abide by our agreement.”</p><p>“That won’t be a problem, I assure you. I value loyalty. As does the Exchange, or so I’m told.”</p><p>A slow smile spread across his face. “It does indeed. If your background checks go smoothly, you’ll be invited to join the Exchange. I advise that you accept the offer.”</p><p>“Of course, Mr Kang,” Velire agreed. “Why else would I be here?”</p><p>With their tour concluded, they were escorted to the guest wing of the estate. Velire was almost surprised that the door didn’t lock behind the guards. Calo paused a moment as the rest of Davik’s security team left, giving Canderous a long, inscrutable look. When Canderous didn’t so much as twitch, Calo retreated without a word.</p><p>When the door finally hissed shut, Canderous gave it a minute before speaking. “All right, we’re inside. No time to waste. We’ll need to find the codes to disable the security systems protecting the <em>Hawk</em>, then we’re as good as free.”</p><p>“Any reason you haven’t already found them yourself?” Carth snipped back. “Surely you’d have an easier time of it when we’ll trip every alarm once we blast our way out of here.”</p><p>“Because hunting for the codes could have tripped every alarm in the estate,” Canderous growled. “The longer Davik stayed in the dark, the better our chances of blasting off this rock. Now, rumour is that Davik’s pilot, Hudrow, was caught stealing spice. With the blockade in place, he isn’t as useful as he used to be, so he’s doing a turn in the prison. I’m sure he’d know the <em>Hawk</em>’s security systems backwards.”</p><p>“We’ll have to ask him nicely, then,” Velire said. “Lead on, Canderous.”</p><p>Under the guise of looking for the slave quarters, they observed the security in the guest wing. A single patroller made a ponderous circuit of the corridors, on the lookout for any troublesome guests, while a squad of four stood by the only exit. The guards seemed surprised to see notorious lone kath Canderous Ordo in a group, but otherwise didn’t react to wandering guests.</p><p>Carth fell into step beside Velire. His gaze remained on their surroundings as he asked, “Did you actually steal equipment from the Sith or was that an act for Kang?”</p><p>As if she wanted to open herself up to more scrutiny from Commander Sanctimonious. “You know what? No. We aren’t doing this. Not now.”</p><p>Now he glanced her way, face set in a stern mask. “Later, then.”</p><p>Velire didn’t bother responding. There were more important things to worry about, namely Canderous looking all too much like the nexu that swallowed the arboreal octopus as he opened fire on the poor guards.</p><p>They rancor-rolled the first few rooms, overwhelming patrols before they knew what was going on. But soon enough the security forces recovered and emergency klaxons blared, summoning a small army to deal with the intrusion. Heedless of their numeric disadvantage, Canderous slammed into the next wave of guards with the terrifying glee of someone finally able to cut loose. Zaalbar’s howls echoed through the halls, further intimidating forces that already had to deal with a bored Mandalorian. In comparison, Carth remained as steadfast as ever, unfazed by the frenetic pace Canderous set and picking his shots with deadly accuracy.</p><p>Since her blaster was mostly decorative, Velire stalked the fringes of the battlefield, stealthed and silent, closing distance until she was close enough to strike. Her energy shield absorbed any well-aimed shots in her direction—of which there were several. Couldn’t expect Davik’s personal army to shoot like a moisture farmer militia, after all.</p><p>Once the din of battle faded, Canderous took stock of their surroundings and led them to a stairwell. Nobody bothered with the nearby turbolift oh-so-temptingly unlocked, unlike every other door they’d passed so far. “This way. Prison’s just a few floors down.”</p><p>Even though their plan was proceeding without a hitch, Velire found herself dogged by an inexplicable mounting dread. She made sure to lock the door behind them so Davik’s men couldn’t rain blaster fire down on them from above.</p><p>Davik’s personal prison was fit for a crime king. It lacked the trappings of the rest of the estate but was still ornate in its own way, laden with all manner of pain-inflicting devices sourced from the most depraved sectors of the galaxy. The prison was equipped with not only the most advanced technologies in the torture industry, but also quaint low-tech implements. Only one holding cell was engaged, its occupant curled on the floor with his hands covering his ears as if that could block out the torture field plaguing him.</p><p>While Canderous deactivated the cell—and best not to think too hard on why he knew the system codes—Velire shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling an itch between her shoulder blades. The personal dungeon of a crime lord was exactly the kind of place she’d tried to avoid at all costs in her career. Standing in a place whose only function was to cause sentients misery, she couldn’t help but wonder how many had never walked out of this room alive.</p><p>A shiver ran down her spine, and she forced herself to focus on the living. Hudrow was more than willing to give them the override codes for Davik’s security system in return for his freedom, and Velire hoped he could make his escape while her strange little squad distracted Davik some more.</p><p>The dripping sickness followed her as they navigated away from the prison block. Canderous again took point, and Velire was heartened to note that he was indeed leading them in the direction of the hangar. With the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> finally within reach, they wasted no time as they backtracked to the upper levels of Davik’s estate.</p><p>After a brief, if intense, discussion, they diverted to the security room so Velire could wreak havoc on the estate’s defence systems. She had a little too much fun disabling cameras and traps, sending false alerts to other wings of the estate, turning patrol droids hostile to the estate’s defenders. But even that didn’t stop the resistance from becoming fiercer, and they were caught in one of Davik’s personal art galleries.</p><p>The doors ahead of them hissed open to reveal a four-man squad. Blaster fire erupted across the gallery as everyone darted for cover behind plinths and pillars. Velire cringed away as a nearby bust shattered in a shower of ceramic. Carth and Canderous wasted no time laying down a volley of fire to slow down Davik’s goons.</p><p>Zaalbar roared a warning and Velire barely turned in time to see the door behind them peel open. Another trio, advancing to box them in on both sides. Her energy shield crackled as it absorbed blaster fire from the two gunners. Next thing she knew, a grenade was sailing towards them—</p><p>A rush of motion, a hefty slam, and Velire found herself pinned between a duracrete pillar and Zaalbar’s warm bulk. The world then skewed violently with a white-hot bang. She felt more than heard Zaalbar’s roar vibrating through her body, and then he leaned out of the pock-marked pillar to throw a grenade of his own. She was barely prepared for the second explosion of sound and debris.</p><p>Coughing through the sudden haze of dust, Velire quickly stretched her limbs. Bruises and cuts, but no major injuries. In front of her, Zaalbar hunched over, teeth bared, one oversized paw pressed to the laceration near his shoulder.</p><p>Cold rushed through her. Ignoring the sound of movement nearby, she dug through her belt for a medpac and handed it over. “Stay in cover, okay?”</p><p>At Zaalbar’s agreement, she squeezed his uninjured arm and slunk away, activating her stealth field. The flanking party was in disarray; one guard lay unmoving, his vibroblade several feet away.</p><p>Possessed by an alien instinct, Velire wedged the toe of one boot under the fallen guard’s vibroblade to flip it upwards, catching it with her off-hand. Hefting both blades, she rushed the nearest foe. The guard fell before she realised what was happening, but her cry alerted the remaining gunner, who’d crawled behind a no doubt stolen statue of some former chancellor. He aimed his blaster at Velire; even stealthed, the dust in the room swirled around her, betraying her silhouette.</p><p>She rolled sideways and bolted for cover behind a display of antique swords. The guard fired, once, twice, but as Velire carefully peeked out, she noticed he was pointing his blaster in random directions. He’d lost her.</p><p>Unseen, Velire grinned.</p><p>The belt around her waist was growing uncomfortably warm. She’d have to end this, and soon. When he was looking over his shoulder, she darted to nearby cover, and again, circling around him in a wide arc. When she reached the wall adjacent to the cover he crouched behind, she prowled forward.</p><p>Several feet away, Velire’s belt whined and crackled. The field shimmered away. The guard whipped around with a shout of alarm, only for her first vibroblade to knock his blaster out of the way. The second finished him off.</p><p>On the other side of the gallery, Carth and Canderous had all but cleaned up the first squad. Two blasts from Canderous’s repeater put an end to the last foe.</p><p>Since neither of them appeared injured, Velire checked in on Zaalbar first. “How’s the arm, big guy?”</p><p>He’d staunched the bleeding with kolto bandages, the white stark against his brown fur. <em>“Healing, but I cannot use my bowcaster for now.”</em></p><p>Velire hesitated, then reached out to touch his wrist. “Zaalbar… thank you.”</p><p>He surveyed her with black eyes.<em> “I swore a life debt to you, Velire Orinn, and I will uphold it.”</em></p><p>And that fact left her more than a little uneasy, but she merely nodded, trying not to look at his wounded shoulder.</p><p>“Keep moving!” Canderous barked, herding everyone to the exit.</p><p>But as the rush of battle faded, Velire trailed to a halt. She swept the gallery for threats. The cameras remained inactive—she’d made sure of that—and she couldn’t spot any hidden traps or imminent reinforcements. None of the others seemed to have heard anything strange, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.</p><p>Carth was the first to notice Velire hadn’t followed them. He glanced back at her, one eyebrow cocked. “What’s the matter?”</p><p>Another near-silent rumble, too faint to be called a sound. Little more than a vibration through the floor. Her palms were suddenly sweaty, vibroblades slipping in her grip. Icy-needled dread bit into the back of her neck.</p><p>“Orinn?”</p><p>Something pulled her gaze to the right, to one of the expansive windows. Late afternoon sunlight slanted between the proud spires, casting long lances of shadow onto the streets below and streaking the sky with orange fire. A hungry, anticipatory stillness gripped the city.</p><p>One of the nearby skyscrapers began to tilt at a dangerous angle, spewing a plume of smoke into the sky. It plunged into the promenade below in silence. Seconds later, the shockwave reached Davik’s estate; it rattled the windows in their panes and ground all of her joints together, from her ankles and knees to the delicate bones in her fingers. Outside, speeders veered in all directions while people below scurried to railings to watch. And in the now-vacant space in the cityscape, baleful red spears of laser fire rained onto the metropolis.</p><p>Velire’s comlink crackled. Bastila’s voice, at once fuzzy with static and sharp with panic: “The Sith are bombarding the planet! You must hurry!”</p><p>Rattled out of her fugue, Velire yelled into the comm, “Get to the rendezvous point! We’ll meet you there!”</p><p>The line cut out with a burst of static. Velire tried to raise Bastila again, but the comlink hummed a dead note.</p><p>“They would’ve hit comm arrays in the first strike,” Carth said, pale and grim as a spectre. “Bastila knows the plan. We need to haul jets, now!”</p><p>Shaking herself out, Velire willed her mind to focus as she sprang after the others. Not on the flashes of red in her peripheral or the shuddering rumbles growing louder with every minute. Bolstered by a wash of adrenaline, she joined the rush to the hangar. They met more and more foes, but it was no longer the organised resistance of the estate’s defenders but a mass of fellow sentients scrambling for what they all knew was the only escape hatch. As soon as Velire brought down the hangar’s security systems, she made the mistake of thinking they were almost free.</p><p>Davik Kang himself turned to face the interlopers in his private hangar. Calo hovered at his right, fingers half-curled near his blaster. “Well, well, look what we have here. Thieves in the hangar. Tell me, Canderous: where’s my astromech droid with the Sith launch codes? Did you think I wouldn’t know that it was sold—”</p><p>Canderous fired without warning, a thunderous trio of blasts echoing through the hangar. Davik toppled to the ground, head smoking, while Calo was quick enough to roll away. Carth wasted no time firing at Calo, tracking him across the room as his energy shield sizzled.</p><p>“Hold it!” Calo raised a fist, his fingers unfurling to reveal the smooth black sphere of a thermal detonator.</p><p>Everyone froze.</p><p>Calo’s mouth twitched in a grim smile. “You may have me outnumbered and outgunned, but I can take all of you with—”</p><p>The estate shuddered. With a loud shriek of metal, the ceiling came apart, raining debris across the hangar. A few smaller pieces dinged off the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s hull. The estate’s fire suppression systems groaned to life as if misting every surface with water would make a difference.</p><p>Without checking for any sign of Calo, Carth seized the opportunity to herd all of them up the ramp as the hangar shuddered around them. He rushed to the cockpit for the galaxy’s fastest preflight procedure; in moments, the rumble of the <em>Hawk</em>’s thrusters joined the cacophony.</p><p>Velire remained by the boarding ramp, vibroblades hanging useless in her hands. Her heart pounded in her ears, urging time to race with it, until the ramp peeled open again to a terrible vista of crumbling skyscrapers and burning skies. Each red lance preceded another shuddering explosion, billows of smoke unfurling like noxious black flags. No longer did each blast register as a distinct noise, instead coalescing into a single continuous roar of heat and smoke.</p><p>Bastila and the others waited atop one of the Upper City’s viewing platforms as agreed. Velire’s heart squeezed with relief, but there was no time to fall apart while Carth steered the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> as close to the building as possible. Several feet of open air yawned between the ramp and the viewing platform, offering a marvellous view of certain death via a several-kilometre plunge. Velire and Zaalbar edged as far down the boarding ramp as they dared, buffeted by a hot, smoky gale trailing cinders.</p><p>“You have to jump!” Velire called. “We’ll catch you!”</p><p>Unconstrained by organic sentiments such as fear, T3-M4 activated his rocket propulsion to land with a neat thump on the boarding ramp. That was enough to spur Mission and Bastila into action; the former clambered atop the railing and launched herself forward. Behind her, Bastila raised her hands, and Mission sailed into Zaalbar’s waiting arms. A second later, Bastila leapt for the ramp. Velire grabbed her shoulder to steady her and they retreated inside.</p><p>Velire hit the controls for the boarding ramp, then yelled into the comm, “They’re in! Go!”</p><p>The <em>Ebon Hawk</em> veered hard to port, almost sending Velire and Bastila sprawling. Zaalbar reached out, fisting one giant paw in Velire’s jacket to keep them upright. Bastila leaned heavily against her, ghostly pale, sweat beading on her forehead. Velire could barely peek Mission, swaddled as she was in the brace of Zaalbar’s arms, her expression numb with shock.</p><p>Velire sucked in a breath. “T3, get to the cockpit and broadcast those Sith codes! Obey Carth’s orders! Zaalbar, strap in and keep a hold of Mission, okay?”</p><p>With an affirmative chirp, the astromech sped away. As Zaalbar barked an agreement, Velire hefted Bastila more firmly against her shoulder and ventured into the main hold, bracing against another lurch. Staggering to the nearest seat, Velire lowered Bastila down and made sure she could buckle her safety harness. Then Velire bolted for the cockpit.</p><p>Carth didn’t even glance her way as she slammed into the co-pilot’s seat. It took precious seconds for her to orient herself with the setup of the panels. The <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s systems reported that the dorsal turret was occupied. Canderous, growling and whooping over the comm as he shot down any nearby hostiles.</p><p>The scene painted across the viewport was hypnotising in a hideous way. It was easy for a spacer to become inured to the sheer scale of the galaxy, and Velire couldn’t claim to be any different—but here, now, witnessing a massacre in progress, the impossible mathematics came roaring back into focus. Taris had a population of billions spread across its entire surface, and thousands were dying with every passing second. Tens of thousands. The magnitude of death was all-consuming.</p><p>Velire couldn’t breathe. Each lance of red light felt like a physical force shivering across her skin as they struck the planet. Proximity alarms blared, piercing her swimming head. The <em>Ebon Hawk</em> sailed up, up, the devastation below partially-obscured by layers of red-stained clouds. The sensors were alight with a mess of transponder signals as flocks of other vessels attempted to flee. Carth swerved out of the path of a too-close freighter with a curse. Without traffic control, pandemonium reigned in the airspace. And without the protection of the Sith launch codes, other vessels fell prey to the fleet cannons. Signal after signal vanished from Velire’s display, some mirrored by distant explosions through the viewport.</p><p>Carth barked, “See if you can transmit those codes to other ships!”</p><p>Velire pounced on the opportunity to do something—<em>anything</em>—only for the bottom of her stomach to plummet. “The Sith are jamming all comm frequencies!”</p><p>Carth swore as a nearby corvette was sheared clean in half by a furious red spear.</p><p>In moments, the <em>Ebon Hawk </em>broke through the upper atmosphere. The silent hulks of the Sith ships, huge and entirely too close, glimmered in mockery of the distant stars. A rush of terror electrified Velire’s nerves at the sight of Darth Malak’s flagship blocking out the sun.</p><p>A multitude of Sith snub fighters zipped in all directions, swarming any vessels that had made it this far. Already a debris field ringed the planet, wreckage flung in all directions. More threats for Carth’s hazard map, when even one piece could shear through the <em>Hawk</em>’s hull as easily as any laser cannon.</p><p>Carth called, “We’ve got incoming! Ordo, take out those fighters!”</p><p>The comm crackled. “Already on it!”</p><p>Moments later, the first fighter vanished from the sensors. Carth changed trajectory to give Canderous a clear shot at the remaining fighters, and the Mandalorian did not disappoint. Another two fighters went down in quick succession, although they were swiftly replaced by three more sailing into engagement range. The <em>Ebon Hawk</em> rolled hard to port as laser fire cut through the black, several shots grazing the hull.</p><p>If Velire rerouted power from non-essential systems to the shields, they’d stand a better chance—but the impulse didn’t translate to her hands, which remained clamped around the armrests. Not after she made the mistake of looking up at the viewport. A broad sweep of the planet yawned below, the clouds peeling back like split skin to reveal the intricate network of blooming firestorms that consumed its surface.</p><p>Everywhere she looked, there was death—either the raw immediacy of explosions lighting up the viewport or sterile outputs on the sensors as nearby signals winked out. The tactical display was worse, somehow, painting the perfect formation of the fleet ringing the planet like a net. A precise weave of capital ships and cruisers that filled the display with sheer numbers. Her lungs couldn’t take in enough air.</p><p>Grey tendrils licked at the corners of her vision; her perception tunnelled to the blur of the consoles around her. At the distant blare of alerts, she wondered if there was an oxygen leak. But her mouth wouldn’t wrap around the words to ask, not when an immense weight pressed down on her breastbone. Black spots danced across her vision, blotting out the stars.</p><p>All at once, the pressure loosened. Familiar shapes around her resolved into the cockpit as the <em>Hawk </em>lurched into hyperspace. All she could do was press the heels of her palms into her eyes as she shuddered.</p><p>Then warm fingers curled around her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. Carth.</p><p>“Easy there. We’re safe now. Just take deep breaths, okay?” His dark gaze, almost black in the dim lighting, was mesmerising.</p><p>Velire obeyed. Her lungs didn’t want to cooperate, trapped by the durasteel bars of her ribcage. But she managed one shuddering breath, then another. The recycled air was crisp with a faint tang of smoke that the air scrubbers hadn’t managed to eliminate. As seconds slid by, the vise around her chest loosened enough that she could focus on something else.</p><p>Like the fact Carth was still crouched in front of her. He held himself with a brittle rigidness, gripping her wrists so tightly she almost couldn’t feel the faint tremors in his hands.</p><p>Velire swallowed hard. “I— I’m sorry.”</p><p>When he spoke, his voice maintained the excruciatingly even tone of someone trying to claw themselves away from the edge. “It’s not easy to witness an entire planet’s destruction.”</p><p>“What,” she rasped, “you’ve done this before?”</p><p>Light from the consoles shifted along his jaw as he gritted his teeth. “Yeah.”</p><p>Of course. He’d served in the Mandalorian Wars. The petty decimation of a non-hostile planet had to be a familiar nightmare for him.</p><p>“Frack, I’m sorry…”</p><p>He grunted in acknowledgement.</p><p>Velire drew in a shuddering breath, then another. “I’ve— I’ve run blockades before.” Hell, she’d spent most of her early adult years evading the Mandalorian horde on the Rim. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”</p><p>“I believe I do.”</p><p>Velire started. As did Carth, dropping her wrists at once. Bastila stood on the threshold to the cockpit, swaying, one white-knuckled hand clutching the door frame for support.</p><p>But she managed to cross the room with barely a wobble, coming to a halt beside the co-pilot’s chair. “I suspect you may be Force-sensitive, and as such, you can feel the destruction Malak has wrought.”</p><p>Velire could barely breathe, let alone speak. “That’s… that’s not possible…”</p><p>Carth was equally sceptical. “You think so? No offence, Bastila, but it’s not unheard of for someone to have a bad reaction to witnessing the death of an entire planet.”</p><p>“This is not merely panic.” To Velire, she said, “You could feel the destruction around us, couldn’t you?”</p><p>Her chest shook with a mirthless laugh. “Had a bad feeling before the sky started falling…”</p><p>Carth looked between them with a bemused frown. “Not that this is my area of expertise, but if Velire can feel the Force, wouldn’t there have been a sign before now?”</p><p>“Not necessarily. Those without training often cannot consciously call upon the Force. And sometimes their sensitivity does not manifest until later in life.”</p><p>Velire closed her eyes. “Great. Just what I needed…”</p><p>There was a soft rustling nearby as Carth rose to his feet. “Either way, we have bigger concerns right now.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Bastila agreed. “Plot a course for Dantooine. There’s a Jedi Enclave there that will grant us refuge. We can recuperate in safety while the Masters may… deliberate on our next move.”</p><p>“Safety?” Carth repeated. “You saw what Malak’s fleet did to Taris—there isn’t a building over three storeys high left standing! Dantooine has no orbital defences and no standing army. The last thing I’d call that is safe!”</p><p>Bastila drew herself up to her full height, planting her fists on her hips. “And just what do you propose we do, then? We cannot run forever!”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa.” Pushing to her feet, Velire stood between Carth and Bastila, hands half-raised. “We’re all shaken by what happened, but arguing won’t get us anywhere.” To Carth, she said, “We have to go somewhere and Dantooine is as good a place as any. We can return Bastila to the Jedi and inform the Republic what happened on Taris.” Her gaze slid to Bastila. “But Carth isn’t wrong that if we’re not careful, we could lead the Sith straight to this Enclave, and they’ll do to Dantooine what they did to Taris.”</p><p>Bastila’s jaw tightened as any returning colour fled her face.</p><p>Carth shifted his stance, loosening the barest centimetre, and his voice matched hers. An almost-even tone. “What do you propose, then?”</p><p>“We need to take inventory, see how long our supplies will last. Then we can plot a circumspect course to Dantooine, dropping in and out of hyperspace and changing routes. If anyone is tailing us, we’ll make it that much harder for them to figure out where we’re headed.” Velire looked between them. “Are we agreed?”</p><p>A tense, heavy moment as they stared each other down. Bastila was the first to relent, her shoulders dropping with a long exhale. “What you say... appears to be a fair compromise.”</p><p>Another pause, then Carth nodded. “Works for me. It seems like the best we can do, given the circumstances.”</p><p>A sigh of relief pressed against Velire’s lungs, but it would have ruined her image. So she briefly closed her eyes, trying to marshall her thoughts. “Good. If that’s all, I need to… to check on the others.”</p><p>She fled the cockpit as quickly as possible, but the shakes followed her out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After three weeks on Taris, surrounded by the hubbub of a grimy ecumenopolis and breathing polluted air, Dantooine felt utterly alien with its clear skies and clean breezes. Not a single high rise spoiled the pristine vista. Even the gentle slopes of the Jedi Enclave’s architecture suited the low rolling hills it was nestled in. It should have felt welcoming, the wings of the Enclave spread in a silent offer of sanctuary, but Velire felt only apprehension.</p><p>Nobody had mentioned that the Enclave’s exits would be <em>locked</em>. And so Bastila had led Velire into the heart of the Enclave, to the waiting Jedi Council.</p><p>Four days after their initial offer to train her, she still hadn’t wrapped her mind around it. Her, a Jedi? That had to be the galaxy’s worst joke. Although given the recent hits the Cosmic Deck had dealt her, maybe she’d learn to stop saying that. First Damiel and Sedaya betrayed her, then the Republic arm-twisted her into signing on only for her first posting to involve getting blown out of the sky, and finally <em>this</em>.</p><p>Velire’s pulse hammered in her ears as she wandered through the Enclave’s modest spaceport, hands shoved in her jacket pockets. If she was making note of which vendors stocked what supplies, well, it was just habit. Whenever an occasional transport lifted off and roared away to freedom beyond Dantooine’s quiet skies, her chest tightened with longing.</p><p>But no. Velire was grounded. Not only by the Enclave’s orders, but also by a growing array of associates. Given how well that turned out last time, she was more than a little hesitant to run with a new crew. But her own recalcitrance battled with a gnawing sense of guilt at the thought of abandoning Mission, Zaalbar and T3-M4. She knew just enough about Wookiee culture that the thought of dishonouring the life debt sat poorly with her, to say nothing of abandoning a teenager with no prospects on a foreign world. At least Canderous didn’t need a babysitter and Carth would no doubt return to the Navy.</p><p>But the impulse to flee still buzzed in the back of her mind, in sync with the thrill of anxiety coursing through her nerves. She could do it, too—shuck off all responsibility and take the first transport off Dantooine, then vanish into the anonymous depths of the Outer Rim. After an afternoon on a holocall with a discreet Telerath-based financial advisor, her Tarisian Opener earnings were safely deposited across several accounts and investments. It was a good thing she’d asked Gadon for her share of the winnings to be liquidised.</p><p>Velire paused in the middle of the walkway, swallowing hard. Guilt wormed through her at the thought of the Hidden Beks, finding fertile ground to forage in. She’d definitely gotten the better end of the deal.</p><p>Pinching the bridge of her nose, Velire drew in a breath. The point was, she had options, none of which the Jedi knew about.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>Being chased by the Republic was bad enough, but the Jedi were more dangerous again with the Force at their disposal. And if she was likewise Force-sensitive, then the Sith wouldn’t simply kill her if they caught her.</p><p>Despite the afternoon’s warmth, Velire felt suddenly cold.</p><p>“Ah, there you are.”</p><p>Velire jumped. Bastila stood not six feet away, as immaculate as ever in her neatly pressed robes. Since their arrival, she somehow managed to double down on the esoteric Jedi routine, clearly in her element now that she was back in her home territory.</p><p>A fresh chill ran down Velire’s spine. “What, the Council has you stalking me now?”</p><p>Offence flashed across Bastila’s delicate features. “I have been given no such orders. I did, however, sense your unease—”</p><p>“From across the Enclave?”</p><p>Bastila quirked an eyebrow. “A Jedi’s powers are considerable. Although I admit that in this case, our… bond allows us glimpses into the other’s mind.”</p><p>“You mean it gives <em>you </em>glimpses into <em>my </em>mind.” To date, no one, not even the Jedi Council, had been able to explain why an alleged Force bond had formed between them. As far as Velire was concerned, it was all a load of mynock muffins.</p><p>“I do not sense your thoughts on purpose, I assure you. I am no more pleased by these circumstances than you are.”</p><p>Velire muttered, “Well that makes me feel so much better.”</p><p>Bastila shot her a sharp look, but then her expression smoothed out once more with a careful breath. “Why don’t you walk with me?”</p><p>“Is that an order, Master?”</p><p>Bastila stiffened, her eyes flashing. “There is no need for that. I did not decide what would be done with you. Besides, you have not begun your training and I am no Master. Not yet.”</p><p>Velire fought a sigh. “Lead on, then.”</p><p>Bastila picked a meandering path through the Enclave to one of the quieter courtyards. This one was little more than a circular concourse edged with well-tended garden beds. Bastila slowed to a halt, her eyes on the reigning blba tree growing in the courtyard’s heart. “It is not your fault that you feel as you do.”</p><p>“And why’s that?”</p><p>Bastila’s expression shifted like water before going carefully blank once more. “I merely mean that these are difficult circumstances for us all. It is no trivial matter to undertake Jedi training—it is a life-long commitment with a grave duty attached, and a part of you recognises that.”</p><p>“Only a part of me?”</p><p>Bastila bequeathed her with a sour look. “Such an attitude will not aid you in your upcoming training. I suggest you make an effort to curtail it.”</p><p>Velire huffed. “If I don’t have the temperament for training—and we both know I don’t—then why bother with all this?”</p><p>Bastila hesitated. “Because… it is as the Masters said. This is as much for your safety as anything else. We can only speculate why the Force has manifested within you now, but we cannot ignore that you were placed on my path for a reason. Besides, you certainly wouldn’t be the only opsimath in the history of the Order.”</p><p>“Really? The Jedi aren’t exactly famous for taking on adult students.”</p><p>“It’s true that such a thing is not common, but it is not unheard of. During Exar Kun’s war, Nomi Sunrider was trained despite being a widow with a young daughter, and she went on to become not only one of the greatest Jedi of her generation but the Grandmaster of the Order.”</p><p>Silent, Velire looked away. A gentle breeze whispered through the courtyard, rustling the bulbous trees in their well-tended garden beds. The verdant smell of fresh grass sent a little shiver of recognition through her. Dantooine reminded her of Deralia in a vague, hazy way, although Dantooine’s rolling golden hills barely resembled the vast flat valley she’d grown up in, under the shadow of the grand Tirilay Mountain Range.</p><p>At last, Velire ventured, “You aren’t trying to tell me that I’ll be the next great saviour of the Jedi, are you?”</p><p>“Certainly not!” At Velire’s raised eyebrow, Bastila cleared her throat. “I do not mean that you cannot play a role in the Order’s history, merely that such expectations would be… unfair to place on one who isn’t even trained.”</p><p>“Right.” Except that they <em>were </em>placing expectations on her, since Velire doubted they’d even consider training her if they weren’t desperate for some solution to their Sith problem. And yet she didn’t think Master Vandar had merely been trying to placate her when he’d said the Council had as little choice in the matter as she did.</p><p>Still, she didn’t like it. At all. And even now, a part of her still hunted for some weak spot that would allow her to weasel free of the net she now struggled in.</p><p>Finding none, she resisted a sigh. “Bastila…”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“What about Mission and Zaalbar?” Velire shoved her hands in her pockets. “I can’t let them be turfed out of the Enclave because they’re not Jedi.”</p><p>“No such thing will happen, I assure you. The Council will not dishonour Zaalbar’s life debt, nor will a fourteen-year-old orphan be cast out. Provisions have been made so they may stay in the guest wing.”</p><p>“There’s still not a lot for them to do…” Velire frowned. “Will they be allowed free access to the Enclave? Or at least the archives? Mission could learn a lot, I’m sure.”</p><p>“Certainly. It would benefit her greatly to receive an education—not to mention discipline—although I fear formal lessons would not hold her attention.”</p><p>Velire fought a smile. “The trick is to present it as a cool adventure, not some boring task that’s for her own good.”</p><p>Bastila frowned in consternation. “I do not understand how one can actively resist what’s in their own best interest.”</p><p>“And that’s why she doesn’t like adults telling her what to do.” At Bastila’s quizzical expression, Velire fought a sigh. “Nevermind.”</p><p>Bastila watched her a moment longer, then said, “It’s getting late. You should return to the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> and get some rest. Tomorrow will demand much of you.”</p><p>“Don’t remind me,” Velire grumbled.</p><p>“You must learn to master your power, or it will master you. The dark side has lured many Jedi away from the light, and those without proper guidance are even more vulnerable to its sway.”</p><p>Velire ground her teeth. “I get it.”</p><p>Bastila opened her mouth, then paused. “I do not intend to discomfort you further, but you must understand why this is the way it must be.”</p><p>“I don’t have a choice, end of story.”</p><p>Another pause, this one more considered as Bastila surveyed her with opaque grey eyes. “The Masters are confident in your ability to adapt. You displayed considerable talent on Taris, and I too believe you have the capacity to walk the path that has been set before you. Provided you accept the gravity of the situation.”</p><p>Velire blinked, taken aback. “Thank you, Bastila.”</p><p>“Of course.” Another inscrutable look, then she added, “If… if you need any support in the coming days, I am here.”</p><p>Velire nodded her uneasy thanks and made a hasty retreat. As she navigated the labyrinth of stone paths and grassy courtyards back to the spaceport, she couldn’t say whether or not she felt any more reassured.</p><p>In the rosegold evening, the docking bay descended into soft purples and greys as the last light faded, and Velire paused a moment to admire the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s sleek lines. Wherever Damiel and Sedaya were, she got the last laugh after all. At least when it came to transport. The <em>Ebon Hawk</em> didn’t have clearance to leave the planet, but Velire had to wonder how Dantooine enforced grounding orders. Certainly not with auto-targeting laser cannons. Although it was best not to get too far down that line of thought or else Bastila could reappear with another lecture.</p><p>Velire drew her jacket around her and hurried up the boarding ramp. Carth sat at the galley bench, absently scrolling through a datapad with an empty mug at his elbow. He glanced up at her arrival. For a moment his gaze was vacant, a look that had become all too familiar since their escape from Taris. Everyone had taken turns wearing that face, save Canderous.</p><p>Carth’s gaze sharpened on her. “Something the matter?”</p><p>“Nothing, besides the fact I’ll be stuck in the Enclave for the foreseeable future.” Velire couldn’t help the plaintive edge in her voice.</p><p>“You know, I didn’t realise that the Jedi took conscripts.”</p><p>Velire muttered, “Well, we both learned something, didn’t we?”</p><p>Frowning in thought, he didn’t look any more impressed by the prospect than she was. “I take it you’re not happy with this whole Force-sensitive business?”</p><p>She shot him a sour look. “How would you like it if you were marched before the Council and they insisted they’d make <em>you</em> a Jedi whether you liked it or not?”</p><p>He grimaced in sympathy. “Yeah, I’d hate to be in your shoes right about now.”</p><p>Running a hand through her hair, Velire fought another swell of unease. “I don’t know what they’re thinking. I’d make a terrible Jedi. Can you see me as a Jedi? I’ll be kicked out within a week!”</p><p>Carth actually smirked, the son of a mynock. “At least it’ll make for an entertaining week. And once you’re exiled, problem solved.”</p><p>“Laugh it up, you hairless Wookiee.”</p><p>“Look on the bright side: you’ll get a lightsaber.”</p><p>Velire sighed. “I suppose that’s a consolation prize.” Meandering past him, she poked around the galley, more for something to do than anything else. The lingering unease in her gut was more filling than any meal. Turning back to Carth, she eyed the datapad by his elbow. “Did you hear back from the Republic?”</p><p>“I did. Since the Jedi have claimed you for training, looks like you won’t need to report in for orders, but I’ll receive my new assignment tomorrow.”</p><p>Velire wondered if returning to the Navy would be an improvement over her current predicament. Not that it mattered—the Republic wasn’t in the habit of refusing the Jedi Order anything it wanted. She turned back to the galley’s food stores. “At least one of us is getting out of here.”</p><p>“I admit, I’ll be glad to get back out to where I can do some good.”</p><p>Something in his voice resonated with her just as her gaze landed on a sideboard decked with what she presumed were Davik’s expensive tastes in alcohol. Carth was a fellow star-hopper, and was no doubt itching to burn sky just as much as she was. Dantooine was too exposed for comfort, guarded only by a militia that could barely handle a Mandalorian raiding party, or so local gossip claimed.</p><p>What the hell. Tomorrow he’d ship out back to the Navy and she’d be locked in the Enclave, and it wouldn’t matter anymore.</p><p>Velire turned back to Carth, a bottle of Tarisian Ale in hand. “Drink?”</p><p>He eyed her, wary. “What’s the occasion?”</p><p>“Drinking with other people is a sign of good socialisation. Drinking alone is a sign of misery.”</p><p>He watched her a moment longer, then one corner of his mouth quirked up. “In that case, I’d better come to your rescue.”</p><p>“My hero,” she said dryly and poured him a glass.</p><p>They sat side by side, quiet, not so close that they were at risk of knocking elbows and spilling the now-rare ale. It didn’t feel quite like peace between them, but a somewhat uneasy truce. In all honesty, Velire wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. A last moment of normalcy, she supposed, on the eve of her life changing forever. Nine hells, it could even be her last drop of alcohol when Jedi seemed so averse to blowing off steam.</p><p>“You ready?”</p><p>Velire frowned into her drink. “No. Well, maybe after three more of these.”</p><p>Carth raked a sceptical eye over her. “Gonna turn up to your first day of training with a hangover? I’m sure that’ll go over well.”</p><p>Velire merely grunted and closed her eyes, focusing on the cool glass in her hands as if it could ward off her pressing doubts.</p><p>Carth’s voice, tinged with concern: “You doing all right? You’re looking a little pale.”</p><p>Velire cracked one eye open. “I’ll make you a deal: I won’t harass you if you don’t harass me.”</p><p>He watched her a moment, his dark gaze as sharp as the finest vibroblade. After a moment, he nodded. “All right then.”</p><p>They sat together, nursing their drinks in the descending quiet. Velire would never admit it, but Carth wasn’t so bad to have around when he wasn’t scowling or making accusations. He was more of a straight-talker than the Jedi, at least.</p><p>Velire fought a sigh. <em>I’m fracked this time.</em></p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>She started, realising she’d spoken aloud. Maybe she was going to show up tomorrow with a hangover, after all, if the ale was getting to her already. “It’s all one big joke. The Force should do stand up routines. If Damiel and Sedaya saw me now…”</p><p>“Damiel and Sedaya?”</p><p>“My old smuggling partners.”</p><p>His head cocked as he considered. “You mean the ones who betrayed you?”</p><p>Even though he obviously sided with the Republic in her little story, did she detect a kernel of indignation on her behalf? Surely not. “Yeah, those ones. At least I have a nicer ship now.”</p><p>“You’re not all that cut up about it?”</p><p>Velire gave a one-armed shrug. “It’s the business. Besides, I’m pretty sure they were doing each other on the side. It was getting awkward.”</p><p>His brow furrowed. “I know I wouldn’t be so sanguine about it in your shoes.”</p><p>Velire paused with her drink half-raised to her mouth, sensing some dark undercurrent in his words. “I won’t say I didn’t feel betrayed, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”</p><p>He was silent for a long moment. “I guess not.”</p><p>Knocking back the last of her drink, Velire relished the burn in her throat. She eyed the bottle for a long moment, but if she was already oversharing then she’d clearly had too much. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to test Master Zhar on her first day. Not when he held her fate in his hands.</p><p>Clearing away her glass, Velire hesitated at the edge of the galley. No matter what they thought of each other, she’d gotten used to Carth as a constant in her peripheral, and felt strange to know that once he shipped out, she’d likely never see him again. “Well… I guess I’d better get ready for tomorrow.”</p><p>Carth watched her for a long moment. Whatever he saw, he kept to himself. “I’m sure there’s a lot you need to do.”</p><p>With nothing more to be said, she nodded once and headed for the starboard dormitory.</p><p>—</p><p>After a restless night, Velire hurried to neaten her appearance before slinging her satchel over her shoulder and heading down the ramp. The others were also gathering with their own belongings. No one had more than a single bag to their name, if that.</p><p>Velire trailed behind the others as they departed the docking bay. She spared a final, longing look over her shoulder for the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>, then hoisted her satchel more firmly over her shoulder and headed for the central courtyard. To her surprise, Carth followed them out of the spaceport.</p><p>Falling in step beside him, Velire asked, “When are you shipping out?”</p><p>“I’m not. The Jedi have requested I remain here as a liaison.”</p><p>Velire paused. “Why would they do that?”</p><p>Carth’s frown deepened by several degrees. “They never say why. But orders are orders.”</p><p>“Well then.” She had to grapple with the jarring reversal, unsure whether she felt relieved or disappointed that she would continue to trip over him for the foreseeable future. “Word of advice: if the Council comes after you saying things like ‘for the greater good’ and ‘will of the Force’, run.”</p><p>Carth made a noise of thin amusement. “You don’t need to tell me twice. But speaking of this so-called will of the Force, don’t you have somewhere to be?”</p><p>Velire drew in a breath to savour her last moments of freedom. The late spring morning was pleasantly warm, a gentle breeze bleeding off any excess heat as it rustled through the courtyard. Across the way, Canderous may as well have been a permacrete statue, unmoved by fair weather or the prospect of a free bunk. T3-M4 lingered nearby, his head dome swivelling to survey the unfamiliar surroundings. Mission and Zaalbar stood by one of the garden beds, the former reaching out to touch one of the plants while the latter spoke quietly to her.</p><p>Velire didn’t look at Carth as she asked, “Can you keep an eye on Mission? I have no idea how much free time—or freedom—I’ll have, but she’s been through a lot and shouldn’t have to go it alone.”</p><p>Carth followed her gaze. Something in his expression softened. “On that, we’re agreed. I’ll do what I can.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Carth looked her over one last time. “Well… good luck, Orinn.”</p><p>With some consternation, Velire realised that was probably the last time she’d hear the word ‘luck’ instead of ‘the Force’. “Thanks, Onasi.”</p><p>As she squared her shoulders and headed for the Enclave’s main courtyard where Master Zhar waited, Velire told herself that there were worse cards to be dealt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special thanks to ScorpioSkies for helping out with this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tatooine’s twin suns glared down from an indomitable blue sky, blistering the Dune Sea with a bone-dry heat. After five days of sweeping across the shifting sea of sand, cresting waves in plumes of golden dust and sinking into shadowed troughs, the Sand People were still nowhere in sight. They’d found evidence of a campsite that had been recently vacated, but no one, not even the Jawas, could provide anything more than a broad swathe of territory to search.</p><p>Carth piloted their rented landspeeder, Velire in the front beside him, while Bastila and Juhani sat in the backseat. All four of them were swathed in light shawls and headwraps to protect them from the burning eyes of the twin suns. After the first day, Velire had decided not to bring HK-47 along again until they confirmed the tribe’s location. Thanks to the oppressive heat, moods were ugly enough without a homicidal protocol droid exacerbating the situation.</p><p>Velire adjusted her goggles and surveyed the eye-searing landscape once more. Distant mountains wavered, dream-like, their slopes bleached to the colour of bone. Beneath them lay a wall of smaller rocky outcrops encroaching on the Dune Sea. Closer to the speeder, a small herd of eopies meandered on the dunes. Velire consulted the map on her datapad, checking off their current quadrant. Another square of empty sand confirmed to indeed be empty.</p><p>Beside her, Carth said, “We should fall back to Anchorhead and wait out the hottest hours.”</p><p>Velire frowned as she calculated travel time to Anchorhead from their current location versus the time it would take to search another quadrant. “We have enough time for one more sweep, then this section of the map is cleared.”</p><p>“I agree,” Bastila said. “Let us complete this task before resting.”</p><p>Carth raked them with a sceptical eye. “We’d be cutting it close.”</p><p>Velire said, “Look, you’re here to fly the speeder and look pretty, and you can do at least one of those things competently.”</p><p>He snorted. “You’re rather bold for someone in the passenger seat entrusting her life to the maybe-pretty maybe-pilot.”</p><p>Velire raised an eyebrow. That was the first time he’d bantered with her in almost a week. “That’s ‘winner of the Tarisian Opener’ in the passenger seat, thank you.”</p><p>“You’re right. I meant that you’re rather bold for the winner of the Tarisian Opener who still opted to make someone else pilot the speeder.”</p><p>Velire paused, frowning. “Monkey-lizard.”</p><p>She caught the shadow of his smirk in her peripheral. “So help me I will turn this speeder around…”</p><p>From the back, Bastila snapped, “Oh, you must stop. Both of you!”</p><p>Velire and Carth shared a sheepish glance, then pointedly looked away from each other. There was no sound in the speeder save the wailing wind whipping at any loose fabric, as effective at sucking moisture away as straight heat. Velire’s tongue felt thick and she was developing a permanent squint even with tinted goggles, but she’d rather just get it done then go have a nap. Especially when the supplies for their day trips weren’t cheap, even with the Council’s stipend and her own Opener winnings.</p><p>As they crested a colossal sand dune, something dark and boxy jutted out of the sand several klicks away, not so far away from a rocky outcropping. Carth brought the landspeeder to a halt and Velire pulled out her new binoculars to take advantage of the unimpeded view. One of Czerka’s M-ETTs was bogged down in the sand. She’d seen the sloping silhouettes of sandcrawlers meandering to and from Anchorhead like colossal grazers, but there were no mines nearby to explain its presence here. Velire zoomed in to scan for damage, spotting wear and tear along with some carbon scoring along the lower hull. But there were no bodies.</p><p>“We should check it out,” she said. “It’s possible the Sand People attacked. Even if they didn’t, the crew could need help.”</p><p>No one disagreed. Carth approached with caution, circling the sandcrawler once to scope it out before parking the landspeeder some distance away. Juhani vaulted out of the speeder, shaking the sand from the folds of her shawl, and stood several feet away in curt silence. She’d been in a foul temper since they landed, despising the endless sand and extraordinary heat, to say nothing of Czerka’s stranglehold over the colony. It probably didn’t help that the hot weather was making her shed.</p><p>As they approached, Velire stretched out her senses but found nothing. “Can anyone else sense anything?”</p><p>Bastila’s brow furrowed in a delicate frown. “Nothing at present.”</p><p>“I do not sense any nearby life,” Juhani concurred. “Nor do I like the look of this. What happened to the crew? Who assaulted the sandcrawler?”</p><p>“We’d better be on our guard until we get some answers,” Carth said. “Check your targets, but don’t assume anyone we come across is friendly.”</p><p>As soon as they stepped into the shadow of the sandcrawler, the temperature dropped, and Velire savoured the moment of relief. Up close, the sandcrawler was a colossal beast with heavy armoured plating. Standing at its base, Velire started to believe Czerka wasn’t simply trying to reassure its work crews by claiming a sandcrawler could withstand a krayt dragon’s attack. Which certainly begged the question of what manner of attack the crawler <em>hadn’t </em>withstood.</p><p>“We should split up to cover more ground,” Bastila said.</p><p>Velire glanced from face to face as she considered. Juhani had been reclusive since she first walked up the boarding ramp. Carth, meanwhile, had been unusually quiet since they’d ventured beyond Anchorhead’s gates, and it left Velire on edge.</p><p>“Good idea. Carth and I can check the fore of the sandcrawler,” Velire said.</p><p>Bastila inclined her head. “Juhani and I shall search around the aft, then. Make sure to inspect the treads for signs of sabotage.”</p><p>Carth said nothing as Velire led the way north to the proud nose of the vehicle jutting into the air. She and Carth took off their goggles and head wraps so the crew wouldn’t have the slightest excuse to mistake them for Sand People, then began their search in earnest. Harsh sunlight reflected off the distant windows of the bridge, searing her eyes when she made the mistake of glancing up.</p><p>Once Bastila and Juhani were out of earshot, Velire sidled closer. “So, I had a question…”</p><p>“I’m all ears, beautiful.”</p><p>She stopped dead. “Oh no, you don’t.”</p><p>Carth blinked in innocent befuddlement. “Something the matter?”</p><p>Velire didn’t buy it for a second. Stabbing at his chest with one finger, she said, “I might be a Jedi now, but I was in the smuggling business long enough to know when someone is flattering me because he wants something.”</p><p>For all the amused cock of his eyebrows, his gaze remained opaque. “And what do I want?”</p><p>“To distract me from asking any more questions. Well, mister, it’s not going to work.”</p><p>Carth’s expression twisted with incredulity as he turned to investigate one of the gargantuan treads. “You’re one persistent woman, you know that?”</p><p>Velire followed suit. “And you’ve been awfully quiet lately. You can’t blame me for being nervous.”</p><p>“Just trying to wrap my head around this mode of operation, is all. I’ve never run a mission with Jedi before. Not like this, at least.” Seeing her curiosity pique, he hurried to add, “So we fly out to a planet, you and Bastila share a dream of the Star Map, and we search an entire planet for it?”</p><p>“Well, I can tell you Tatooine’s relic is in a cave, so we don’t need to sift through the Dune Sea.”</p><p>“I’m serious. What are our chances of just stumbling on where we need to go?”</p><p>Frowning, Velire scanned their surroundings. Nothing but rippling sand and silent outcrop. “Which is why I asked the Jawas for help, and freeing their people from the Sand People is the price for their information. Come on, Onasi, I know you were paying attention during our crew briefing.”</p><p>“That’s not what I mean. You and Bastila just so happen to have these dreams helping us out?”</p><p>“Visions. We’re following <em>visions</em>. So far they’ve proved the Dantooine artifact was correct and there are more ancient ruins somewhere on Tatooine.”</p><p>Carth stopped. “But why? Why Bastila—and why <em>you? </em>You’re a neophyte Padawan who’s been saddled with tracking down these Star Maps. That’s not normal.”</p><p>Velire gave a delicate shrug. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”</p><p>He shot her an acidic look. “Don’t you start with that destiny garbage.”</p><p>“It’s what the Masters told me when I asked why Bastila and I shared the first vision on Dantooine.”</p><p>“So they don’t know, either? Great. Just great.”</p><p>“The first thing I learned is that the Force plays by no rules but its own, and the sooner I accepted that, the sooner I stopped losing my head. There’s—” Velire stopped, feeling the words jumble on her tongue. But Carth was watching her with a flicker of genuine interest, so she figured she may as well try. “I don’t know if I can explain to you what it’s like to be in touch with the Force, but it isn’t unusual for the Force to... give people a nudge in the right direction. It’s weird, yes, but you learn to trust it.” Because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “I know that’s an unfamiliar concept to you.”</p><p>“And you can just accept all that, huh?” Carth shook his head. “Can’t believe the Jedi got you of all people. Hook, line and sinker.”</p><p>Velire’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were a soldier, trained to obey orders without question?”</p><p>“There’s a difference between accepting what you’re told to <em>do</em> without question and accepting what you’re told to <em>believe </em>without question. And I don’t for a second believe the Jedi told us everything. For starters, why are you even here?”</p><p>She stiffened. “Excuse me?”</p><p>But Carth continued, heedless of her dangerous tone, “I’m not trying to provoke you or imply you’re somehow responsible for the Council, but if Bastila is having these visions, then what are you doing here as well? Don’t the Jedi have to train you?”</p><p>Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was Carth’s unique ability to get under her skin, but Velire’s temper frayed. “Consider me provoked. First you insinuate that I sabotaged the <em>Endar Spire</em> and now you’re insinuating that I’m useless when I’m the one who made a deal with Iziz for information on the Star Map, I’m the one who got us access to the Dune Sea, and I’m the one paying for all this with <em>my</em> credits!”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa!” He held up his hands. “I never said you were useless. Just— just calm down before your head explodes.”</p><p>Three months of Jedi training went out the airlock as Velire rode the wave of anger that propelled her forward to stab his chest with a finger. “Don’t you tell me to calm down, you hairless Wookiee—”</p><p>Distracted as she was, she barely noticed movement in her peripheral. A brief high-pitched whine was all the warning they had, then a flash of white burst around them. The world fell away in a stinging rush.</p><p>—</p><p>A distant sense of motion tugged at her, and she swam towards consciousness. Sounds warbled in her ears, distant and distorted. Her back was pressed against something warm and solid. Despite the heat, unease shivered through her. Her mouth felt thick and fuzzy.</p><p>Velire’s eyes opened, but the world remained dark.</p><p>Panic bolted through her. She lurched up, only to be arrested by the cuffs securing her hands behind her back. The wall behind her shifted, and when calloused hands grabbed hers, she realised it was no wall at all.</p><p>Adrenaline stripped away any remaining lethargy as she took stock of her current state. Blindfolded, gagged. The heavy weight of a collar around her neck. Sitting on a metal floor since grown warm. Stale, dusty air raked over her bare arms, raising bumps across her skin. And the warm back pressed against hers was none other than Carth’s. Her hands felt clammy in his, but he didn’t let go.</p><p>Fighting a groan, Velire leaned back against him, letting her head loll on his shoulder. Captured. Great.</p><p>She took a moment to soak in his bolstering presence. As he shifted to take her weight, guilt wormed through her.</p><p>
  <em>This is my fault.</em>
</p><p>Minutes ago—or what felt like minutes ago—Velire had been shouting at him, and here he was letting her lean on him when he had every right to elbow her in the kidney. Investigating their bonds, she found that their wrists were cuffed together. The restraining braces were high quality, the kind employed by police forces and bounty hunters across the galaxy, and that sent a little curl of apprehension through her. Sand People weren’t famous for using top-of-the-line restraints on their captives.</p><p>She stretched one foot, hoping to get a sense of her surroundings. Her boot connected with something hard and solid close by. With some further exploration, she guessed it was a wall or a large crate. A distant rumble vibrated through the floor. A motor, perhaps. Which meant they were in transit.</p><p>Velire had no intention of finding out their intended destination.</p><p>She ran her fingers over the binders again. They were a relatively low-tech variety, without any onboard stunners—and her heart skipped a beat as the pad of her thumb brushed over the lock. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she twisted one leg underneath her to hunt around in her boot, hoping, heart in her throat.</p><p>Her fingers brushed against the security spike she kept in her sock.</p><p>They’d taken her utility belt, but it seemed they didn’t expect a Jedi might carry a scoundrel’s tool. Behind her, Carth was shifting, no doubt wondering what she was up to. Velire squeezed his hand in reassurance, then carefully extracted the spike and set to picking the first lock. An excruciating awareness settled over her, leaving her hypersensitive to the slightest twitch of the tumblers. If the spike snapped, they were truly helpless.</p><p>Well. It was a good thing she had plenty of practice. Even blindfolded, even without the Force, she could listen with ears and fingertips for the tiny vibrating click of each tumbler falling into place.</p><p>The first lock gave way under her careful finagling, freeing one of Carth’s hands. No doubt sensing what she was doing, he held still; Velire felt a rush of appreciation towards him. Turning her attention to the next cuff, she repeated the process. Velire pressed on the last tumbler, only for it to slip out of place. A bead of sweat rolled down her back between her shoulder blades. She held her breath, counted to three, then tried again. It finally locked in its proper position, and Carth was free.</p><p>At once, he shifted away with a rustle of fabric. Velire ignored the sounds of his freedom and the growing ache in her shoulder to attack the manacle around her left wrist.</p><p>“Hold on a sec. Let me get that blindfold off you.”</p><p>Velire paused her work as Carth loosened the blindfold, then the gag. As they fell away, her vision resolved to a cramped, dimly lit storage room turned impromptu prison, overflowing with sealed crates. Neither Bastila nor Juhani were present.</p><p>A chill stole down Velire’s spine. “We have to find the others.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Carth said. “But we have to figure out how to get out of this room, first.”</p><p>And before that, she had to get her hands free. The left cuff gave way in moments, but even as she shoved the spike into the final lock, she realised her mistake. A tiny click vibrated through the fine metal as the spike snapped in two.</p><p><em>Frack</em>.</p><p>Velire wiggled the spike, but the broken-off tip was jammed in the lock. She held up her right arm and sighed at the manacle dangling from her wrist. “So close.”</p><p>Carth shook his head, all business. “It’ll have to do. You have your hands free, now help me find a way out of here.”</p><p>Velire probed at the disruptor collar clamped around her neck. The skin beneath was itchy with sweat, and her fingers curled into claws around the rim, wishing she could pry it off through sheer force of will. Even if her spike wasn’t broken, the collar had no visible lock, clearly remote-controlled. She’d just have to make do. Admittedly it felt rather strange to be without the Force, but she’d spent her thirty-something years of life without it, and a few months of training couldn’t outweigh that.</p><p>Prowling to the door, Velire inspected the control panel. Locked, naturally, but she was more interested in the specifications. It looked like an MCS JIN12-Reader, common in ground transport vehicles and prefabs. The screen blinked with an alert for a level two lockdown.</p><p>The Masters would probably say it was a test, to remind her of humility. She was more inclined to believe it was the Force’s idea of a joke.</p><p>Turning over the remains of her spike, Velire found one half had a flat edge. An edge that fit into the screws securing the panel casing to the wall. She set to work.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?”</p><p>Velire glanced up from her work. “On a level two lockdown, you need a passkey to unlock the door. But this model has something of a fatal flaw, namely that the panel can be tricked into thinking the passkey was used by flashing the firmware. At least, that’s the intended outcome.”</p><p>Carth raised a sceptical eyebrow. “And what’s the unintended outcome?”</p><p>“The system recognises it as an intrusion attempt and escalates to a level three lockdown, hard-locking the door panels together.”</p><p>Arguments swam in his eyes, but he only asked, “Can you do it?”</p><p>Velire turned back to the exposed circuitry and wires. “Do garrals have freckles?”</p><p>A long moment of silence behind her. “Be careful.”</p><p>“I don’t want to be stuck in here any more than you do, Onasi.”</p><p>Locating the jumpers and wires she needed, Velire took a deep breath and visualised every step before she dared touch anything. Since she couldn’t cut power to the panel, she risked electrocution by messing with the innards of the mechanism—and after the debacle with the spike, she couldn’t afford any more errors.</p><p>She touched the metal wall to ground herself before toying with the circuits and wires. The familiar map of circuitry steadied her nerves as she worked. At last, she moved the jumper on the main circuit board down two pins, counted, and replaced it.</p><p>Heart in her throat, Velire lifted her hands away and counted backwards in her head. <em>Five. Four. Three. Two…</em></p><p>With a gentle chirp, the portal cycled open.</p><p>But there was no time for victory when a Zabrak guard startled on the other side. “What the—”</p><p>Carth charged past to tackle the guard, slamming her into the wall with a sharp crack. Stunned, Carth was able to wrestle her blaster out of her grip and put her down with a swift shot.</p><p>Velire fought the cold unease that she hadn’t sensed the guard. Only a few months and she was already taking the Force for granted?</p><p>Shaking herself out, she weaselled past Carth to crouch by the guard—who she found to be unconscious, not dead. “Does that blaster have a stun setting?” Velire asked.</p><p>Carth inspected the weapon. “Yeah.”</p><p>She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I guess they wouldn’t have gone to all that effort of capturing us only to shoot us.”</p><p>But it certainly begged the question of just who ‘they’ were. The guard didn’t wear any identifying colours; she was well-equipped, but with a mismatched set of gear.</p><p>Velire hummed thoughtfully. “We can rule out Czerka, at least. They can’t go anywhere without slapping yellow and black on everything.”</p><p>Carth crouched beside her, frowning down at the guard. “Scavengers could have hijacked the sandcrawler from one of the mines. If that’s the case, they probably weren’t pleased when we showed up.”</p><p>They stripped the guard of any useful gear, mostly weapons and a few pieces of armour, then Velire abused the storeroom’s control panel once more to lock the guard inside. The loose manacle clanged against the wall as she worked.</p><p>When she was done, she pulled the binders taut and held them out to Carth. “Do me a favour and shoot the chain, will you?”</p><p>The heat from the blaster round was more than enough to melt the alloy, and the loose manacle dropped to the ground with a satisfying clang. While it wasn’t total freedom, it was as close as she was going to get.</p><p>They set off as quietly as they could, following a low-ceilinged corridor lined with exposed cabling. Despite their commotion with the guard, the sublevel remained quiet but for the persistent rumble beneath the floor.</p><p>Velire sidled beside Carth to whisper, “What’s the crew complement for these things, anyway?”</p><p>“If I remember correctly, it takes a minimum of ten to cover all necessary operations, but they can easily handle up to sixty passengers.”</p><p>She frowned. “Sixty? Wonderful. We have to be careful.”</p><p>“You don’t need to tell me twice.”</p><p>They checked every door they passed, but the other rooms turned out to be storage facilities, all used for their intended purpose. Despite the ever-present rumble of the distant motor warning them of their limited time, they proceeded with care. Carth would press himself against every corner and peer out before nodding an all-clear while Velire watched their rear. Without the Force, she couldn’t sense if any of those theoretical sixty people were nearby.</p><p>Velire’s hand crept to her collar. Bastila had managed to shake off the effects of the neural disruptor the Black Vulkars had slapped on her, but Velire didn’t know where to begin. It felt like scratching at a kilometres-tall granite wall, unable to find purchase, let alone climb her way to freedom. And she even had the advantage that this particular model didn’t completely scramble her thoughts, just suppressed her connection to the Force—</p><p>Velire stopped dead.</p><p>“What is it?” Carth asked.</p><p>She swallowed. The collar felt all the tighter around her neck. “Whoever caught us came prepared. There’s no way they just happened to have Force disruptor collars on hand.”</p><p>His eyes narrowed as he realised she was right. “That ambush must’ve been laid specifically for us. It sure doesn’t seem like Sand People. But it isn’t standard Sith protocol, either, I can tell you that much.”</p><p>She frowned as she mulled it over. “Whoever it is, we can’t underestimate them. And we’d better find Bastila and Juhani sooner rather than later.”</p><p>Pressing all other thoughts from her mind, Velire picked up the pace. A few turns and the corridor opened into a larger room—some kind of cargo bay, with a low ceiling and wall-mounted lamps that cast dim yellow light. A waft of warm air from the nearby engineering bay carried the smell of dust and grease. The bay was a labyrinth of scavenged goods—including their rented landspeeder. Velire and Carth shared a look.</p><p>Voices reverberated off the walls, accompanied by footsteps headed in their direction. Carth signalled a retreat and they backed towards the corridor, but the speakers continued to approach.</p><p>Carth withdrew into a narrow alcove between some crates, but Velire couldn’t see any place to hide. She retreated into the shallow recess of the doorway they’d just come through, praying the voices would stay on the far side of the cargo bay.</p><p>They didn’t.</p><p>The footsteps drew closer, the speakers sharing a joke she couldn’t parse over the blood roaring in her ears. Her empty hands curled into fists. In moments, they’d see her and sound the alarm—</p><p>Velire heard the bark of a blaster, followed by a thud. She risked a glance around her doorway to see Carth firing from his cover. One man lay prone on the floor while the other drew his own blaster and opened fire, retreating in Velire’s direction.</p><p>With his back to her and his focus on Carth, he didn’t notice Velire, or that she’d stuck out her foot. The man tripped, yelping as he fell on his back. The blaster flew from his grip and Velire lunged, seizing the weapon with both hands. Flicking it to stun, she shot the man square in the chest.</p><p>With a quick check no others had come running toward the commotion, Velire and Carth grabbed what gear they could from the downed men, hoping to disguise themselves. Same as the door guard, the men’s equipment was far from standardised but of high quality.</p><p>After dragging the men to a nearby storage room, Velire and Carth soon found the turbolift. Even with a pilfered jacket and bandoleer, she fought a cringe as the doors dinged open on the next level. A bulkhead blocked the turbolift from immediate view, with two passageways opening on either side. The nearby sound of a semi-friendly argument made both of them freeze.</p><p>Oh-so-carefully, Velire eased to the edge of the bulkhead and peered around. The passage opened into a mess hall made to serve dozens of workers, but only one table was occupied by four thugs playing pazaak.</p><p>“You heard what the boss said. Malak wants the Jedi alive. As for the other two… maybe the Sith will pay for ‘em as well. Boss seems to think so.”</p><p>Other <em>two?</em></p><p>White noise rushed through Velire’s ears, drowning out any reply from the other henchmen.</p><p>Carth reached for her arm, but she slithered out of his grip and sprang into the mess hall. The four thugs looked up from their game too late to do anything about the concussion grenade she hurled into their midst. She rolled behind a counter as it detonated with a blinding bang.</p><p>Carth leaned around the bulkhead to drop one thug while Velire leaned out of cover to shoot a second—then had to roll away as a blaster bolt lanced past her shoulder. Grabbing a nearby chair, she tossed it in the third thug’s direction; Carth seized the opportunity to blast him.</p><p>The last thug held up her arms in surrender. “Don’t kill me!”</p><p>Velire knocked the blaster rifle out of the thug’s hands, then aimed her blaster at her head. “Let me guess: bounty hunter?” At the woman’s careful nod, she asked, “Where are the other prisoners?”</p><p>The woman’s eyes darted from Carth and back to Velire. “There’s only the one. With— with the boss.”</p><p>Velire drew in a careful breath. “There was another person in our party. Where is she?”</p><p>“There were only three prisoners, I swear!”</p><p>Another numbing wash of dread ran through her limbs to settle in her stomach, a dead weight. She was vaguely aware of Carth talking, the bounty hunter answering, all distant and warbled as if her ears were filled with water. Of Carth knocking her out when he was done.</p><p>A part of her stubbornly insisted that it wasn’t her fault, that the Jedi knew she wasn’t the responsible type then piled responsibilities on her anyway. But that was overshadowed by the thrumming pulse in her ears, the electrical coursing of anxiety through her nerves. She could run, sure, but she would never be able to escape the fact that if Juhani was dead, it was her fault.</p><p>Their entire predicament was all her fault.</p><p>For an awful moment, Velire struggled to breathe.</p><p>“Hey, hey. Easy. Now’s not the time for us to lose our heads.”</p><p>Her gaze snapped to Carth, standing beside her. Underneath his stoic expression, she spied a glimmer of concern. She drew in a shaky breath. “If Juhani is…”</p><p>“We don’t know that,” he said, firm but not unkind. “And we aren’t going to leave her behind, no matter what.”</p><p>Velire drew in a breath. Nodded once. “You’re right. Let’s go.”</p><p>Carth led the way to the armoury, following the directions he’d squeezed out of the bounty hunter. After a quick engagement with a pair of guards, they found their confiscated equipment amongst an arsenal that could outfit a small army.</p><p>As they stripped off their stolen gear, an emergency klaxon began blaring.</p><p>“Guess they figured out that we got loose,” Carth said. “Let’s double-time it!”</p><p>They hurried to re-equip themselves, then rushed up an emergency stairwell to the topmost deck. Even without the Force, Velire felt much better with her lightsabers in hand. She and Carth swept through the squad guarding the sealed hatch to the bridge. After pilfering a passkey from one of the guards, the door cycled open—</p><p>“Hold it right there!”</p><p>The bridge stepped down to a command centre where rows of control panels were operated by a half-dozen bounty hunters, who all had blasters drawn at the intrusion. Past their heads, the sweeping bay of windows showed the faded gold expanse of the Dune Sea and an undaunted blue sky.</p><p>And standing in the middle of the bridge was none other than Calo Nord. Bastila kneeled, blank-eyed, on the floor beside him. Not only were her hands bound in front of her and a collar clamped around her neck, but a drug-dispensing armband encircled her bicep.</p><p>Calo pointed his blaster at Bastila’s head. “No one move.”</p><p>Velire couldn’t help but stare at him. “How did you escape Taris?”</p><p>“I’m difficult to kill. And now I have a reputation to maintain.”</p><p>Eyes on the blaster muzzle pressed to Bastila’s temple, Velire bit back her first retort, and her second. Instead, she managed to keep her voice even as she asked, “Then why aren’t we dead yet?”</p><p>“Because you’re worth more alive than dead. Or rather, you <em>were </em>worth more alive than dead.” He looked down at Bastila; his expression never wavered, nor did his voice lose its bored intonation. “Shame. Malak wanted his bounty alive, but corpses will have to—”</p><p>Two things happened at once. First, Calo froze mid-word, his finger curled around the trigger. Second, Velire felt more than heard the tiniest whine of her collar powering down, then the Force sang a hymn through her body.</p><p>The distinctive snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber echoed across the bridge. A furious blur leapt down from a nearby bulkhead, and with a graceful arc of her lightsaber, Juhani cut Calo down.</p><p>As the other bounty hunters gaped, Velire activated her energy shield and sprang into action. Bolting for Bastila, she warded off blaster fire with her own lightsaber. Carth was likewise quick to recover, rushing into cover behind a bay of consoles and taking aim.</p><p>As Carth opened fire, Velire hooked her arms under Bastila’s shoulders, grunting as she hauled Bastila’s dead weight to cover. The half-dozen bounty hunters hunkered down behind various consoles across the command centre. Laser fire dashed across the bridge as they recovered and mounted their revenge.</p><p>At the first lull in their volley, Juhani leapt straight over a console to fell one thug, but had to roll away from a fresh hail of blaster fire cutting through the air. Velire leaned out of cover to assist, one arm raised. A green-skinned Twi’lek tracking Juhani slowed to a halt as the stasis field closed around him. Nearby movement caught her eye, but she recoiled a moment too late as the world vanished in a white-hot shock of pain.</p><p>As her vision cleared, heavy footsteps approached. Calo rounded the corner, one hand pressed to the cauterised gash across his chest while the other clutched his blaster in a white-knuckled grip.</p><p>“Told you I was hard to kill,” he said and fired a rapid volley.</p><p>Velire planted her feet, her lightsaber a hot yellow blur as she deflected the blaster bolts. Drawing in a breath, she channelled the Force into her limbs, sharpening her reflexes to an excruciating precision. Even so, more than a few shots sparked off her rapidly-depleting energy shield. She couldn’t last, but she couldn’t move or Bastila would be hit.</p><p>Her shield stuttered and died with a crackle. She drew the Force to her, knowing it was her only chance. Even as she leapt for him, she could sense that Calo would hit her dead-on—</p><p>He flinched in the quarter-second before his finger could squeeze the trigger. Velire struck true and Calo sank to the floor, his back scorched by three laser shots.</p><p>Carth was crouched in nearby cover, his blaster still raised. He nodded to Velire before they both turned their attention to other targets—only for the last bounty hunter to be thrown across the room, cracking her head against the viewport. She slid to the ground and went still. Juhani half-turned in a tight circle, one arm still outstretched and her lightsaber raised as she scanned the room.</p><p>Carth lowered his blasters. “Juhani! That was impeccable timing.”</p><p>Juhani blinked, seemingly taken aback by the praise. “I… well, I could not remain hidden while the two of you fought.”</p><p>Velire almost reached out to grab Juhani’s shoulder, then thought better of it. “Are you all right? I thought you might be…”</p><p>Surprise glimmered in her golden gaze, perhaps as she sensed genuine concern from them both. “I am unharmed. The sniper struck Bastila first, so I had enough warning to cloak myself before I too was hit. I… had to follow Bastila, given the grave danger she was in. I apologise for not finding you both.”</p><p>Velire shook her head. “You made the right call, Juhani. I’m just glad you’re okay.”</p><p>Turning her attention back to Bastila, Velire sat her upright against one of the consoles and freed her from her restraints. Bastila’s brow twitched as the collar came free, but she didn’t rouse.</p><p>“The armband…” Juhani crouched beside them, her expression tight. “This bounty hunter spared no expense to keep her subdued.”</p><p>Velire reached up to the disabled collar still hanging around her neck. “Mine was likely a spare. Guess we should be thankful he didn’t get his mitts on a spare armband as well.”</p><p>Juhani cocked her head in acknowledgement, expression stiff. “He was well-prepared, but only for one Jedi.”</p><p>Velire gently elbowed her. “Good thing you were here, huh?”</p><p>Juhani’s hot yellow gaze pierced through her relieved quip. “I should not have needed to be here to stave off disaster.”</p><p>Ah.</p><p>Fighting a grimace, Velire found the release mechanism on her collar. Flinging the wretched thing off her neck, she drew in three breaths, as Master Zhar taught her. The first to centre herself, to still her mind. The second to open herself to the Force, to allow it to flow through her body, answering her call. The third to listen, to stretch her senses beyond herself.</p><p>Velire reached for the bond. It felt thinner somehow despite their proximity, perhaps due to Bastila’s semi-conscious state. Velire had no particular aptitude for restorative uses of the Force, but she could funnel some of her own energy through their bond, washing away the dregs of the drugs in Bastila’s system.</p><p>Beside her, Bastila groaned and clutched her head. “Where…? What happened?”</p><p>Velire handed her a water bottle. “We, uh, were ambushed and captured by Calo Nord.”</p><p>At once, Bastila’s gaze sharpened on Velire. “The sandcrawler. It was a trap.” It wasn’t a question.</p><p>Velire fought the strange urge to fidget under Bastila’s stony expression. “It was.”</p><p>Bastila’s eyes narrowed. “A trap which took us unawares because anyone in a fifty-kilometre radius could hear you and Carth arguing.”</p><p>
  <em>Frack.</em>
</p><p>Velire cleared her throat. “Juhani said they picked us off at range…”</p><p>“This is true,” Juhani said, but her voice was clipped. She narrowed her eyes, head tilted in the Catharese equivalent of a scowl. “Were we not distracted, however, we would have detected the bounty hunters’ approach.”</p><p>Bastila’s gaze was so furious Velire’s skin should have blistered. “That makes no difference! Had the two of you focused on your surroundings instead of your latest petty dispute, you surely would have been prepared to react!”</p><p>Velire opened her mouth with an instinctive objection, then hesitated.</p><p><em>You’re a Jedi, </em>she told herself.<em> Act like it.</em></p><p>“It wasn’t Carth’s fault,” Velire said. “It was mine. I put all of us in grave danger, and you most of all. I should have known better, and I’m sorry.”</p><p>Bastila’s expression didn’t outwardly change, but a half-second of cold dread sang through the bond, followed by a flash of a cage beside a swoop track. “Yes, you should have known better. Have you learned nothing at all during your time on Dantooine? Have you any understanding whatsoever of your responsibilities? This mission is not a game and you are not a child! This willful, selfish behaviour cannot stand.”</p><p>Velire tried not to wince. Juhani and Carth watched in silence, neither offering any backup. Juhani’s ire was just as strong as Bastila’s, and the combined weight of their disapproval raised the hairs on her arms.</p><p>Bastila briefly closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let us leave this place at once.” She fixed Velire with a steely stare. “And I will not hear any backtalk from you!”</p><p>No one argued. They activated the sandcrawler’s emergency distress beacon and headed for the cargo bay to reclaim their landspeeder. Soon enough they were speeding back to Anchorhead under the long gaze of the twin suns. As soon as the speeder came to a halt, they all traipsed straight back to the <em>Hawk</em>. Velire hung back, letting Juhani and Bastila take the lead. Maybe it was a sign of how irritated they were with her, but neither seemed to notice or care that she was lagging behind.</p><p>Carth, on the other hand, kept pace with her. Maybe it was a soldier’s instincts, to make sure no one was left behind. Velire hesitated, then asked, “Carth… are you all right?”</p><p>He blinked, startled. “I’m fine. Why?”</p><p>She kept her eyes on Bastila’s back in the distant crowd. “We were stunned, trussed up in a storage room, and had to fight our way through a sandcrawler full of bounty hunters who wanted to sell us to the Sith.”</p><p>He grimaced. “I’ve had worse.”</p><p>“That’s beside the point.”</p><p>Carth watched her with one eyebrow arched. “Where did this sudden concern come from?”</p><p>“Oh, nothing. Just that today’s disaster was all my fault.”</p><p>“Not entirely your fault…” His expression twisted in consternation. “I lost my focus in the field, the same as you. I’ve been feeling useless on this mission, frankly, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”</p><p>“Useless?” Velire repeated. “I— look, I didn’t mean what I said earlier. You’re not useless. Far from it.”</p><p>“It’s not that. I can fight, sure, but I’m no Jedi. All this feels completely out of my league.”</p><p>“Well, this all feels out of my league, so that makes two of us.”</p><p>He eyed her sidelong. “Guess it does. But I know you didn’t have to take the fall for both of us with Bastila.”</p><p>This time Velire did sigh. “Yes, I did. I picked that fight with you. I lost my temper with you. I should have known better when we were in potentially hostile territory, and I’m sorry. You have my word that it won’t happen again.”</p><p>Carth regarded her for a long moment, eyes half-narrowed, then his expression softened. At last, he said, “Apology accepted.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it.”</p><p>While it was a bad idea to look a gift iriaz in the mouth, Velire couldn’t help but wonder how he could forgive her so easily. It shouldn’t have mattered, but a knot behind her breastbone eased knowing he wouldn’t hold a grudge.</p><p>Carth noticed her staring. “What?”</p><p>She cleared her throat and looked away. “Nothing. Let’s… let’s get moving.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Edit: Tweaked a couple of things.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every ship was its own living thing, and the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> was no different. Carth hadn’t served on such a small vessel in a long time; after the <em>Endar Spire</em>, the <em>Hawk </em>felt downright cramped in comparison. He was used to being recognised by superiors and subordinates, but rank and protocol imposed a safe distance between him and any crewmates. The <em>Hawk</em>, however, had only the illusion of rank and no protocol to speak of. It felt more than a little strange when a shipmate greeted him, his name given a particular weight that only came from familiarity. Whatever he was to the others, he wasn’t Commander Onasi. That much was for sure.</p><p>Once the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> was safely in hyperspace, en route to Kashyyyk, Carth meandered from the cockpit to the galley. Vague sounds of shipboard living travelled the corridors. By now, he knew the usual schedules of the others pretty well. Zaalbar and T3-M4 had made it their mission to inspect every centimetre of the <em>Hawk</em> after Mission, Juhani and Velire discovered several smuggling compartments. Juhani had no doubt found an out-of-the-way spot to meditate and wouldn’t emerge until dinner.</p><p>A distant commotion echoed from the starboard dorm. Carth changed direction, all senses alert until the sounds registered—a squawk, followed by Mission’s laughter. Carth paused, figuring it was safer to steer clear of that particular danger. He sure didn’t want to wind up in Bastila’s sights when she was grouchy.</p><p>Carth backtracked, noting the faint clanking from the garage that had to be Canderous, who was still in the process of organising the workbench when he wasn’t maintaining his equipment. HK-47 had also wound up in the garage, which was fine by Carth. Although he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave that depraved droid in Canderous’s company.</p><p>Velire already occupied the galley table, absently toying with a lock of hair as she focused on the datapads spread across the table. She glanced up at his entry, then returned to her mess of documents. Carth found himself glancing over her shoulder as he passed. Expense reports and receipts, by the look of it.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow. “You, doing datawork?”</p><p>“This tub won’t pay for itself.”</p><p>It seemed more than a little odd that for someone with a grade-A aversion to any notion of duty, Velire sure ended up carrying the burden of responsibility fairly often. Then again, if she was contributing to the mission funding from her personal finances, it made sense she’d want to account for every credit.</p><p>As Carth made his way to the galley proper, he said, “I was going to put on a pot of caffa. You want anything?”</p><p>“Do we have any of that Gatalentan tea left?”</p><p>He glanced back at her. “Since when do you drink tea?”</p><p>“Combining caffa with Force powers grants the ability to see through space and time.”</p><p>Despite himself, Carth snorted. “You might want to invest in decaf.”</p><p>Just like the budgeting, Velire’s explanation made sense. On the surface, at least. Carth frowned as he put on a fresh pot of caffa and went hunting for their supply of tea. Davik had stocked the <em>Ebon Hawk </em>with several rare and expensive brands, and a couple of Dantooine blends had also wound up on the pantry shelves. Once their respective drinks were brewing, he leaned a hip against the counter and waited.</p><p>From the table, Velire asked, “Those blaster mods you bought before we left Tatooine—do you have the transaction IDs?”</p><p>Carth made a snap decision. “Call it a personal expense. Wouldn’t want to squander your credits when you’re throwing funds into this operation.”</p><p>She at least had the grace to look abashed. “Right.”</p><p>Silence fell between them, the only sounds being the bubble of boiling water and tap-tap of her typing, until a minute later she piped up again. “I’ve set up a slush fund everyone can draw from, but I was thinking of giving Mission her own allowance as well. Any idea what a reasonable amount might be?”</p><p>Carth stopped dead. Morgana had handled Dustil’s allowance, and Carth found he didn’t actually know how much she’d given him. “I, uh, can’t help you there. Sorry.” The silence stretched awkwardly, and Carth didn’t dare look up to meet her confusion. Swallowing, he tacked on, “It’s a good idea, though.”</p><p>Not for the first time, it struck him that Mission was around the age Dustil had been when Telos was bombed. He swallowed hard.</p><p>Thankfully, their drinks were done. Carth could busy himself fussing with their mugs while Velire returned to her numbers. She absently thanked him as he set down her tea—then glanced up when he sat at the table as well. Her questioning stare crawled over him like Dantari fire ants, and he fought the urge to fidget. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sat down of his own volition to talk with a crewmate.</p><p>But he had no choice. Something was shifting again, and his every nerve was on alert. Since their close call with Calo Nord, he no longer knew where they stood with each other, and he’d prefer to figure it out sooner rather than later.</p><p>“Did you usually handle the finances for your smuggling crew?”</p><p>Velire eyed him sidelong. “Somehow I doubt you’re genuinely interested in the intricacies of bootlegger budgeting. So what’s this really about?”</p><p>“I was just curious if you have experience with this kind of thing. No need to get yourself in a twist over it.”</p><p><span>Her voice was as chilly as a Hoth breeze.</span> “I’ve gotten enough banthacrap from Republic officers about my previous career, thank you very much. At this point I just want to leave my past behind.”</p><p>Carth raised an eyebrow. “That so?”</p><p>“I’m not a smuggler anymore. There’s no going back to that life.” Velire lifted her chin. “I’m a Jedi, and it’s time to start acting like it.”</p><p>“Which includes datawork?”</p><p>She looked down. “Something like that.”</p><p>Carth considered her for several long moments. “Our run-in with Calo Nord really spooked you, huh?”</p><p>Velire traced the rim of her mug with a finger, her expression distant. “I never had a choice in any of this, but that doesn’t matter. There’s no going back. I have to take this seriously, or people <em>will</em> get hurt next time. I’m only sorry it took this long for me to figure that out.” She looked up to him, then. “And I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved since we crash-landed on Taris.”</p><p>Carth eyed her, wary. “You’ve been apologising a lot lately.”</p><p>“I have to.”</p><p>Mulling over her words, he considered all the angles. He’d never seen her so humbled, but he’d never seen the dread lingering in her eyes, either. “Well then… apology accepted.” When Velire only nodded uneasily, he noted, “You don’t look any happier for getting that off your chest.”</p><p>Her finger stopped midway around the rim of the mug. She looked away, expression tight. “Just… there’s nothing of my life before today worth keeping, and I don’t know how to feel about that.”</p><p>Carth was quiet for a long moment. He knew all too well the feeling of losing everything that once defined your life. Finally, he said, “Guess I can’t blame you for wanting to put your past behind you. There are things I don’t want to revisit, either.”</p><p>Velire cracked a smile, and Carth had the distinct impression she was trying to backpedal from that moment of vulnerability. “Don’t tell me you smuggled blasters from Hutt space in your younger days.”</p><p>“My life hasn’t been so exciting, I’m afraid. Unless you count the time I almost got eaten by overgrown space slugs.”</p><p>Her smile morphed into a smirk. “Flyboy, you’re the pilot of a smuggling vessel we stole from a crime lord. That has to count for some excitement.”</p><p>Carth chuckled despite himself. “Extenuating circumstances. I don’t usually make a habit of taking an Exchange boss’s prized corvette for a joyride across the galaxy.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Her tone was light, teasing. “You’d make for an excellent smuggler, you know. Hells, it’d be a breeze to get through Republic inspections with you around. No one would ever suspect Commander Onasi of anything less than upstanding behaviour.”</p><p>Carth’s fingers tightened compulsively around his mug. That was exactly how Saul had landed such devastating attacks after his defection. Teeth clenched, he managed to grit out, “Sorry. Some of us know the meaning of loyalty.”</p><p>Velire’s head canted to one side, any amusement sliding away. “So that’s why you still distrust me? You think I’m criminal scum who’s going to betray you?”</p><p>He fought a wince. Should’ve expected her to turn the questions around on him. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”</p><p>Velire gave him an opaque smile. “I’m not an idiot, Onasi. It’s been four months and you still look at me like I’m Darth Malak’s evil cousin.” She paused. “Evil-er cousin.”</p><p>Carth shook his head. “I’ve been betrayed before, by someone I trusted. You of all people should understand what that does to a person. Is it so strange that I don’t want to let that happen again?”</p><p>“No, it isn’t. It feels safer to keep everyone else at arm’s length, where you can see them if they try to take a swing at you… to expect the worst in others, because that way you can’t be disappointed.” Velire surveyed him back, her mug held between both hands. When she next spoke, her voice was quieter. Softer, somehow. “Maybe I’d understand where you were coming from if you explained it to me.”</p><p>Carth swallowed hard. Whatever her reasons, he couldn’t let her paw around in everything he’d spent four years trying to bury. “All I’ve been trying to say is that this isn’t personal. You should understand why it’s safer for everyone involved if you don’t trust anyone.”</p><p>There was nothing behind his walls worth searching for. One day she’d have to realise that.</p><p>Velire canted her head, her gaze level on him. “Well, I’m sorry, Carth, but I do trust you.”</p><p>For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.</p><p>No. No. He was—a dead man walking, and the rubble of Telos had long since proven he didn’t deserve anyone’s trust. He hadn’t even managed to save his homeworld or his own family.</p><p>“You— you shouldn’t.” The words were choked.</p><p>Velire’s chin lifted in a familiar stubbornness. “Well, I do.”</p><p>“I mean it. If you were smart, you wouldn’t trust anybody, and certainly not me!”</p><p>But her mouth was set in an obstinate line. “Too bad, Onasi. I trust you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”</p><p>Technically there was—and the sentiment must’ve shown on his face because Velire pointed a threatening finger at him across the table. “Are you going to screw me over to prove a point? Are you really? Because I know you’re not.”</p><p>Despite knowing she was right, Carth couldn’t help but snap, “Do you now?”</p><p>“Yes, because you’ve had plenty of opportunities already and I’ll bet it never even occurred to you! Not when you’re easily one of the most principled people I’ve ever met.” Velire’s expression tightened into something more serious, fine lines appearing at the corners of her eyes. The certainty in her gaze scared him. “You do the right thing, always, because it’s the right thing to do, no matter the consequences to you personally. And you’ve never flinched from that.”</p><p>Carth could only listen, dismayed, as she laid out a neat picture of a man who didn’t exist. Not anymore. Everything that wasn’t the need to hunt down Saul had burnt away with Telos’s surface. Some days he didn’t recognise the man in the mirror. Worse, it didn’t always scare him as much as it should. “I’m— I’m not as good a man as you seem to think I am.”</p><p>Velire’s eyes sparked with challenge. “No? You saved my life on the <em>Endar Spire</em> and again when we crash-landed on Taris. You didn’t even know me, but you put yourself in danger when it would’ve been safer to leave me for dead. This entire time you’ve watched my back even though you despise me—”</p><p>“I don’t despise you,” Carth blurted, finding the words to be true as they came out of his mouth. No matter the messy, ever-shifting battle lines drawn between them, it was hard to hate one of the few people who, for better or worse, wanted to know him.</p><p>“You don’t?” Velire blinked owlishly, completely derailed. It would’ve been amusing in different circumstances. She swallowed. “Well then.”</p><p>At once, the patent absurdity of the situation struck him. Here she was, arguing to his face that she trusted him when he’d done nothing to deserve it. Refusing to leave anyone for dead? That was just him doing his job. Especially when the Republic was bleeding personnel. It was a rare day that he was actually able to save anyone, anyway.</p><p>Carth scrounged for words. “I— answer me this, at least. You’ve been betrayed by people before as well. How can you possibly trust me or anyone else?”</p><p>Velire toyed with a datapad as she considered the question. “Usually, I try to make myself too valuable to throw out an airlock. But you…” She shook her head with an incredulous smile curling the corners of her mouth. “I expected you to ditch me on Taris, you know? I was stupid, baiting you the way I did, but you still put yourself between me and any nearby threats.”</p><p>Carth’s eyes narrowed as he thought back, but all he could remember was Velire eschewing her blaster to rush into engagements with a vibroblade, often providing a decent distraction for him to pick his shots.</p><p>Velire continued, “I should have kept my mouth shut and cooperated with you, but even though I was a schutta to you, you never even thought of pushing me off an Upper City ledge, did you?”</p><p>Despite himself, Carth joked weakly, “Only once or twice.”</p><p>Velire chuckled. “Once again proving you have more restraint than I do. I trust you because you’ve earned it, Onasi.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I don’t care what you say to the contrary.”</p><p>Before he could find a retort—anything—to make her understand, she scooped up her collection of datapads and left.</p><p>Once she’d disappeared into the dim corridor, there was nothing left but a lingering trace of something softly floral in the air and the pounding of his heart. His skin prickled and crawled, suddenly hyper-aware of the ship around him in a way he hadn’t been before. The cool climate controlled air felt somehow crisper than it did a few moments ago, and he could feel more than hear the ambient hum of the engines, punctuated by the occasional tick of the power couplings. He glanced around the cramped galley; Velire’s empty mug sat on the table like a challenge.</p><p>It had been easier to endure when he held himself apart from the crew of whatever ship he was serving on. More than that. It’d been the only way he stayed alive.</p><p>Carth swallowed hard. Something in his chest gave way, in that hollow space behind his breastbone. The old grief had rusted him from the inside out, leaving him brittle—and he hadn’t realised just how much it had until now. Anything left of him after Telos had been stripped away in the numbing aftermath, leaving only the dogged need to see his mentor dead and the thin hope it would put his ghosts to rest.</p><p>Carth ran a hand through his hair, struggling to process the last few minutes. The utter conviction in Velire’s eyes left him cold. He would let her down the way he let his wife and son down. He just knew it.</p><p>Carth had certainly felt fear since Telos. Less the white noise of panic and more the instinctual reaction to looming death that was hardcoded into every sentient brain—but when it came to his own life, it was tempered by the knowledge he’d be with Morgana and Dustil again on the other side. But this—his throat constricted, every nerve screaming, knowing someone was relying on him. And if he failed again, there would be another life on his hands.</p><p>Carth clenched his hands into fists. Damn her, anyway. There’d been nothing left of him to care. Until now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Edit: Tweaked parts of their conversation.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as Carth enjoyed piloting, he always appreciated the first moment he stepped off the boarding ramp, especially after several days in transit with what had to be the worst crew roster to come out of the Outer Rim. As if the Mandalorian wasn’t enough, Velire’s newest acquisition on Tatooine was proving to be her worst decision to date. And that was from the woman who thought charging at rakghouls with only a vibroblade was a good idea.</p><p>After enduring days of HK-47’s open speculation on which ‘meatbags’ would fare the best against it in a fight, sometimes supplemented by additional commentary from Canderous, Carth was about ready to toss someone out an airlock and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw one of them or himself. On top of all that, a strange peace had been brokered between him and Velire since that moment in the galley. He’d wound up sharing the story of Saul and Telos with her, piece by piece. If he felt somehow lighter for the telling of it, well, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.</p><p>The docking platform was made of sturdy timber planks so broad they were wider than his arm span. Branches from the giant trees wove into a thick canopy above the spaceport, and it had to be a constant battle to keep the landing pad clear. Sunlight filtered through the dappled canopy, and after Tatooine’s relentless heat, the ample shade was more than welcome, even if he already felt chilly. The colossal trees were so tall they faded to shadow before the forest floor was visible; a few brave sunbeams speared down until they too were lost in the black.</p><p>Carth wasn’t afraid of heights, but he certainly had a wary respect for the drop-off and the all too frail-looking railing that guarded it. One wrong step and he’d die of boredom before hitting the ground.</p><p>While Bastila and Velire dealt with the port authority, Carth and Canderous left the <em>Hawk</em>’s berth to scope out the spaceport. They’d agreed that a Republic pilot and Mandalorian would attract more attention together than if they scouted alone, so Canderous lumbered off in a different direction to browse the stalls.</p><p>T3-M4 wheeled along beside Carth, head dome turning in all directions to take in the riot of new input. Together they looked like just another pilot and astromech hunting for a mechanic that wouldn’t overcharge them—although given the port was in the middle of nowhere and flying Czerka colours, the chances of that were in single digits. Carth passed a few other landing pads, noting that almost every other docked ship sported Czerka’s memorable yellow and black. Workers in matching colours weaved through the light foot traffic with repulsor lifts to load and unload cargo. Something itched at him, and it took him a few moments to figure out why. Considering they were on Kashyyyk, there was a distinct lack of Wookiees around.</p><p>A nearby voice called, “Carth? Carth Onasi?”</p><p>Carth stopped, looking around for the source of the voice. “Jordo? Is that you?”</p><p>“It is you, you old space dog!” Jordo ducked around a moving repulsor lift to clap Carth on the shoulder. “Of all the spaceports in the galaxy, huh? What are you doing all the way out here? I figured you’d be at the helm of a Hammerhead.”</p><p>Carth replied, as droll as he could manage, “I was. I crashed.”</p><p>Jordo laughed. “That’s never kept you down for long. I have an hour before I’m due for my shift. Why don’t we investigate the cantina and you can tell me the story?”</p><p>Carth weighed up the offer. It would make for decent cover to ask about local gossip and get a feel for the outpost. Their little crew had never managed to cause trouble so soon after landing on a new planet, so an hour couldn’t hurt.</p><p>Not to mention it’d been entirely too long since he’d last seen his friend. Carth grinned. “Sounds good to me.”</p><p>Jordo’s gaze shifted over Carth’s shoulder, and Carth glanced around to see Velire approaching. “Jordo, this is Velire Orinn. Velire, meet Jordo Tral. He’s an old friend.”</p><p>Jordo nodded at her with a smile. “How do you do, miss?”</p><p>Already Carth could see a mischievous spark in her eye that made him nervous. “Old friend, huh? You must know all sorts of excellent stories involving Carth here.”</p><p>Jordo chuckled. An equally worrying smirk dawned on his face. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”</p><p>“All right, all right, don’t make me separate you two.” Carth shook his head. To Velire, he asked pointedly, “Don’t you have work to do?”</p><p>“Bastila’s fetching Juhani, then we’ll be off.”</p><p>Carth raised an eyebrow. “You’re not taking Zaalbar? I figured he’d make the perfect guide.”</p><p>Since joining the Jedi, Velire had certainly practiced maintaining a stoic facade, but Carth didn’t fail to notice her expression tighten. “Zaalbar won’t tell me or even Mission the details about his departure from Kashyyyk, but I’m under the impression it was under less than stellar circumstances. I want to get a handle on the local situation before asking him for help.”</p><p>Privately Carth wondered if Zaalbar would tear up the garage before Velire finished her information-gathering, but kept that to himself. Instead, he said, “Fair enough.”</p><p>At some unseen signal, Velire glanced across the dock to where Bastila and Juhani waited. “Well, gentlemen, I need to go. Try not to burn the spaceport down.” She pointed a finger at Jordo. “You don’t go anywhere. I need ammunition.”</p><p>Jordo grinned like a kath that’d just spotted an iriaz. “Aye, ma’am.”</p><p>Carth tamped down a groan. “Don’t get too distracted, Orinn, or you’re liable to be eaten by kinrath.”</p><p>“Don’t give the Force any ideas.”</p><p>“I think it has enough ideas already,” Carth muttered. Then louder: “Be careful out there.”</p><p>One corner of her mouth kicked up. “I’m always careful.”</p><p>“You’re never careful,” Carth retorted as she turned away.</p><p>Velire raised a hand with a glance back over her shoulder, just enough that he could see her cocked eyebrow and the amused glint in her eye. Possessing the predatory grace of a nexu, she strode across the dock to where Bastila and Juhani waited; they made for an imperious trio as they set off through the spaceport. More than a few heads turned to watch.</p><p>Jordo, meanwhile, eyed Carth sidelong.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. T3, go find Canderous. Now, Jordo, where’s this cantina you promised?”</p><p>Jordo led the way to a cantina tactlessly named Beerdean, little more than a single bar that had carved out its place beside the local depot. Despite the relatively early local hour, more than a few off-duty workers occupied seats around the place. Carth and Jordo found a spot with a clear line of sight to both the bar and the spaceport outside.</p><p>“So,” Jordo drawled, leaning back in his seat. “The Jedi needed a pilot?”</p><p>“Something like that. I’m not at liberty to talk about it.”</p><p>After years of service, Jordo knew better than to pry further. “I get you. Whatever your mission is, good luck.”</p><p>“Thanks. I think we’re going to need all the luck we can get.” Carth leaned back in his seat. “What about you? What brought you to Kashyyyk?”</p><p>Jordo sighed, his good humour sliding away. “The freighter company I signed on with takes contract work from Czerka. Been hauling cargo along the Durkteel Loop. Not the most exciting job, but it pays the bills.”</p><p>“I hear ya. I’m sure Kalenna is glad you’re not flying straight into enemy fire anymore, though.”</p><p>“Sure is. Still long distance more than we’d like, but Neri has another operation coming up and that won’t pay for itself.”</p><p>Carth’s gut clenched at the thought that four years down the line, Neri still needed treatment. Another jolt ran through him at the realisation that the sweet girl that he remembered had to be a teenager now. With some caution, he asked, “How’s she doing, anyway? I haven’t seen Kalenna and Neri since before…”</p><p>A haunted look crept into Jordo’s eyes, but he nodded. “Yeah, Neri’s doing much better. She can use her arm again, though she still has trouble with fine motor control.”</p><p>As ignominious as it was, a dark curl of discomfort slithered through Carth’s stomach. It wasn’t resentment. Not exactly. Not anymore. But that didn’t make it any easier to endure when Jordo still <em>had </em>a family. The strength of the old grief surprised Carth, sometimes, even after four years. It didn’t help that a quiet voice in his head muttered that he should’ve been watching Dustil graduate this year.</p><p>Carth was starting to remember why he’d fallen out of contact with Jordo and the others.</p><p>Biting back the acid in his throat, Carth managed, “Well, give Neri a hug from me and tell Kalenna I’m thinking of them both.”</p><p>“Thanks, Carth. Will do.”</p><p>Quiet fell between them. Carth struggled to push down the old, unfair feelings as he toyed with the condensation on his drink. He could only think—not for the first time—that his family should have survived instead of him.</p><p>He was jolted out of that dangerous line of thought when Jordo asked, hesitant, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Dustil recently…?”</p><p>However well-meaning, it was like pressing on a broken bone. Carth drew in a pained breath, trying to quell the ache in his chest. “Jordo, he’s… he’s been missing since the attack on Telos.”</p><p>“What? I saw him on Korriban just a few weeks ago.”</p><p>For an instant, the spaceport around him fell silent. Carth felt his heart beating against his ribs, hard, and then the entire universe teetered and warped around him.</p><p>
  <em>He— he can’t be— </em>
</p><p>Carth’s chest felt tight, like a durasteel band bruising his lungs. He barely managed to suck in the breath to ask, “Are— are you certain it was him?”</p><p>“Positive. He didn’t recognise me, but there was no mistaking him.” Jordo hesitated, eyes tight. “Carth, he’s, uh, joined the Sith. There’s an academy on Korriban and, well, he was wearing the uniform…”</p><p>Carth choked.</p><p>It didn’t compute. Dustil couldn’t have joined the Sith. On the heels of knife-sharp relief—<em>Dustil was alive</em>—came a bewildered terror that crashed through him. Dustil must’ve been captured during the attack, but Jordo couldn’t be right when his son would never—</p><p>“Carth! Carth!”</p><p>Carth was halfway to his feet before Mission, wild and upset, all but collided with him. Her face was so pale the faint dusting of freckles were dark on her cheeks. It took a couple of moments for his brain to switch gears and focus on the situation in front of him. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. What’s the matter, Mission?”</p><p>Her small hands grabbed at his jacket. “It’s Zaalbar! They took him!”</p><p>“Who took him? And how?”</p><p>“Some Wookiee guards from one of the nearby villages! They called him a filthy madclaw and said he shouldn’t ever have come back! Canderous would have blasted them when they came near the loading ramp, but T3 sent an alert to Velire and Bastila. They told us not to fight.” Mission’s fists clenched, anger dashing across her face. “We coulda taken them.”</p><p>Taking out the local police would’ve turned the whole settlement hostile, and Velire surely knew that. But one look at Mission’s face told Carth it probably wouldn’t be productive to explain that to her. “Do you know where they took him?”</p><p>“To Zaalbar’s old village. Bastila said to gear up and get ready for trouble.”</p><p>Carth fought a grim smile. Not even an hour. That had to be a new record. He gave Jordo an apologetic look. “I hate to cut this short, but I need to go.”</p><p>Jordo shook his head. “It’s no trouble. I need to head to the <em>Stellar Flare</em> anyway. It was good to see you again, Carth. I hope you two can get your friend back. And, uh, good luck with Dustil.”</p><p>Carth could feel Mission trembling beside him—from fear or anger, he wasn’t sure—and rested a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and he forced himself with some effort to shove everything else away. He couldn’t help Dustil right now, but Mission needed him. “We’ll get Zaalbar back. I promise.”</p><p>—</p><p>After a week spent trekking through the Shadowlands—or what Carth assumed was a week when the days blurred together—it felt like he’d all but forgotten what sunlight looked like. Only the faintest beams penetrated through the towering canopy above, leaving the days dark and the nights blacker than the void. Colossal tree roots writhed in all directions, looming like monsters in the smothering fog that spread in all directions. It was endlessly cold and wet, stinking of a thousand years of rot mouldering in the dark. One of the perks of being a pilot was that Carth didn’t usually have to deal with cold, wet socks or muddy belongings like the ground pounders did, and yet here he was.</p><p>They’d picked up a new addition to the already-absurd crew roster: an old Human by the name of Jolee Bindo, who insisted he wasn’t a Jedi despite the lightsaber in his hand. At least he wasn’t more of the same from the Enclave. Hell, he’d already managed to irritate Bastila by pointing out that the Council wasn’t exactly a spring of infinite wisdom. Carth still wasn’t sure what to make of him or his motivations, but couldn’t take issue with another fighter on their side.</p><p>It sure felt like they’d fought one of every predator on Kashyyyk so far on their venture to find the Star Map and take out a madclaw in exchange for Zaalbar’s safe return. Juhani was in her element, her keen senses far outstripping anyone else’s and her natural cloaking abilities coming in handy more than once to pre-emptively ambush things in the underbrush waiting to ambush them. Which, as it turned out, included a band of Mandalorians.</p><p>Carth had to bite back a bitter laugh at that one. It figured that not even a world like Kashyyyk would be free of them. At least Canderous had no compunctions about putting the raiders down. Hell, he seemed to take it as a personal insult that they claimed to be Mandalorian.</p><p>Carth had quickly learned to keep an eye on the various Jedi in the party, as they were the best early-warning detection system the team had. He was already lifting his blasters when he saw Jolee’s head turn to an empty hollow.</p><p>“Well, children, we have company—”</p><p>The understorey exploded with movement. At least a half-dozen Mandalorians, their stealth fields shivering away as they struck with whatever element of surprise remained.</p><p>All the Jedi were obvious targets with their lightsabers lighting up the understorey. Blaster bolts strobed through the black, leaving ghostly afterimages that made it harder to spot movement. Carth activated his energy shield and picked his shots with care, given the conditions were ripe for friendly fire. Nearby, HK-47 fired with less hesitation. Even though Velire swore up and down she’d programmed a no-kill list, Carth sure didn’t trust that the droid would be cautious.</p><p>In the mayhem, Mission acted as an independent disruptive force, tossing grenades then using her stealth field generator to skip out of danger. Since Zaalbar’s arrest, she’d been more reckless than usual, throwing herself into every fight with gusto. Despite his best efforts, Carth lost track of her more than once. Gritting his teeth, he told himself that if he couldn’t see her, enemies unfamiliar with her and her fighting style would have even more trouble.</p><p>The Mandalorians had a similar team composition, with melee fighters charging in to engage the Jedi while ranged fighters tried to gun down anyone not paying enough attention. Juhani held the front with a burst of temerity, seemingly unconcerned that put her shoulder-to-shoulder with Canderous. In moments, the Mandalorian line broke and Juhani sprang away to pounce on second Mandie aiming at Bastila’s exposed back.</p><p>Another one appeared out of thin air at Canderous’s flank, wearing the distinctive crimson of a rally master. Canderous managed to deflect a killing blow and kicked at the commander. Muddy terrain made for awful conditions to run in, but Carth bolted to the relative shelter of a coiling wroshyr root that gave him a perfect line of sight of the rally master’s flank—</p><p>“Carth!”</p><p>He turned at the sound of his name. Red exploded across his vision as a high-powered bolt skimmed past his shoulder. The air was punched from his lungs and he dropped to the ground, blasters clutched tight in his hands. His energy shield blinked out, and he prayed his attacker would turn to another target rather than make sure he was dead.</p><p>When no second shot struck his back, he gritted his teeth and crawled through the mushy forest floor to the closest cover. Rising into a half-crouch, he scanned his surroundings for the sniper. A shout rang across the field—Canderous and Bastila circling the commander, all with blades ready. Canderous and the leader traded snarls in Mando’a that Carth could half-follow, but Juhani leapt out of the black to break the stalemate.</p><p>With no clear shot on the leader, Carth settled for felling a grenadier aiming at Jolee. The swooping noise of a stealth field disengaging was all the warning he had before a vibroblade was whistling towards his neck—</p><p>Carth’s vision was seared by luminous violet and blue, outlining a phantasmal shape in front of him. Velire caught the vibroblade between her sabers and shoved with a strength that took the Mandalorian aback, and then he was flying backwards into a massive tree trunk. Carth wasted no time putting several blaster bolts in his helmet. After leaving Tatooine, Velire had built herself a second saber, and Carth had never been more glad to see the ghostly glow of her lightsabers so close to his person.</p><p>Carth scanned the field for other targets, spying a helmet and the scope of a sniper rifle peeping out over a nearby ridge. A grim satisfaction rushed through him. <em>Found you.</em> “Velire, flush him out for me!”</p><p>Not far away, Velire complied with a sweep of her arm. The sniper was yanked forward, rifle tumbling through the air, and Carth picked him off as he fell down the ridge. A nearby whoop from Canderous indicated the commander had been felled at last.</p><p>As the last sounds of battle were swallowed by the forest, pain ratcheted along Carth’s back. Grabbing at his right shoulder, he gingerly inspected the wound—as much as he could in the near-black, anyway. The bolt had skimmed the back of his shoulder, catching the edge of the armour plating and searing through the suit’s underweave.</p><p>“Here, let me help.” All of a sudden Velire was steering him to perch on a low tree root.</p><p>She sat beside him, the air between them blooming with warmth. He’d been healed twice before in the field, but nothing could ever prepare him for it. Velire didn’t need to poke and prod the wound, just let her hands hover over the injury site. Flexing his fingers, he fixed his gaze on a glowing patch of fungus over her shoulder. A sudden wash of cold rushed through his side, stealing the breath from his lungs. The numbness wasn’t enough to cancel out the terrible itch as his skin knit back together—something he’d only ever felt from Velire’s healing, weirdly enough.</p><p>At last, the cold faded away and he could breathe again. Velire leaned back, huffing a little. “How’s that?”</p><p>Carth gingerly rolled his shoulder. “Better. Thanks, Velire.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it.” She gave him a quick smile as she pulled back. At some point, a streak of mud had smeared across her cheek, and Carth was struck by a sudden, absurd urge to wipe it away.</p><p>“Who needs finesse when you have raw power, eh?” Jolee remarked, and Carth almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t realised the old man was nearby, watching with only the scarcest glimmer of his eyes to give him away.</p><p>Velire stiffened. Without turning her head, her eyes slid to Jolee. “Don’t tell me that’s your professional opinion.”</p><p>“And if it is?”</p><p>Carth was close enough to see Velire take a single, even breath. “You could have said something earlier about being a healer.”</p><p>“Ah, but I’m a newcomer to your merry band and Carth here would surely be more comfortable being treated by someone he knows.”</p><p>To Carth’s surprise, Velire shot Jolee an unusually cool look. “If you want to stick with us, you pull your weight. Next time, you heal whoever needs it.”</p><p>Before Carth could puzzle out the sudden shift in her demeanour, she’d hauled him to his feet. “No pain?”</p><p>“No pain,” Carth confirmed.</p><p>Velire nodded, satisfied, and gently squeezed his elbow. “Good thing you know how to duck, flyboy.”</p><p>“It’s a vital skill they teach in flight school.”</p><p>In the gloom, he saw her teeth flash in a quick grin, and he found himself returning it. For just a moment, the tangled knot behind his breastbone eased.</p><p>Bastila rounded up the team and gestured for Jolee to lead the way again, weaving through the cavernous network of roots. Velire drifted to Juhani’s side, the two of them murmuring back and forth with their heads together before Velire moved on to check in with someone else.</p><p>Healing or no, Carth’s shoulder still felt tender. He decided to let Bastila keep the lead while he kept an eye on Mission, who was prowling at the edge of the group. It took him a few minutes to realise that the closest teammate was Velire, who was now keeping pace with him. She said nothing, but Carth found himself bolstered by her presence nonetheless.</p><p>After the group had set up their camp in the relative protection of a fallen wroshyr trunk, anyone not on guard duty turned in early. Having to limit light and noise to avoid attracting any unwanted campmates, it meant there wasn’t a lot to do except crawl into a sleeping bag and think longingly of a hot shower. In those long, dark hours, Carth found himself circling back to the conversation with Jordo over and over.</p><p>Only the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, that it wasn’t safe to break down in the field, prevented the crush of emotion from overwhelming him. But it was a near thing all the same when he was afraid and furious and so relieved it hurt. With years of practice, he could carry the first two like smouldering embers easily enough, but hope was an unfamiliar thing that threatened to set him ablaze.</p><p>Dustil was alive.</p><p>Alive and with the Sith—but that couldn’t be right. Jordo had to be wrong, although if he was, then that meant he could be wrong about seeing Dustil at all.</p><p>No, Dustil may as well have been Jordo’s nephew. Carth knew to his bones that if their roles were reversed, he would be able to recognise Neri, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last seen her.</p><p>A helpless frustration gripped Carth. Here he was, crawling through the muck on a backrocket while his son was trapped in Sith hands. Had the Sith caught him on Telos—had they kept him prisoner for four years? Force only knew what they’d done to him.</p><p>Closing his eyes, Carth tried to resist the suffocating pain and failure welling in his chest. <em>Just hold on a little longer, son.</em></p><p>—</p><p>The next day—if day still had any meaning—they found the madclaw. Or rather ‘madclaw’, a convenient shorthand for a political dissident. Carth couldn’t bring himself to be surprised by that. Politics somehow managed to pervade every inhabited planet. What <em>was </em>surprising was that Freyyr was none other than Zaalbar’s father. It made for one hell of a family squabble.</p><p>The day after, they found the ancient alien installation. It took several moments for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing. Smooth angular architecture sprang fully formed from the damp black earth, somehow resisting the tremendous growths of the ancient trees surrounding it. Labyrinthine root structures encircled the machinery like an organic shield as if the planet itself wanted to hoard its secrets. And there, nestled within the installation, was a dormant Star Map.</p><p>Something about the Star Maps always left Carth feeling on edge, although maybe that was because any nearby Jedi were so unsettled by them. Bastila and Juhani both halted at the sight, the latter’s ears twitching, and even Jolee slowed his pace.</p><p>“There it is,” the old man rumbled, his voice somehow blending into the grim ambience of the stagnant undergrowth. “I’ve no doubt it holds the answers you seek, but good luck getting that obstinate machine to talk.”</p><p>As always, Velire was the least intimidated, striding towards the base of the structure with barely a moment’s hesitation. Carth still wasn’t sure what to make of that. She never lacked for courage, that much was clear. But maybe with so little exposure to the dark side, she didn’t know to be wary of it like Bastila and Juhani were. Not exactly a comforting thought, that.</p><p>Carth shifted his stance, one hand resting on the grip of a blaster. If the ruins were anything like their Dantooine counterpart, it could only mean trouble of the battle droid variety.</p><p>Velire’s approach triggered a holo interface of an alien that looked like a cross between an Ithorian and a Mon Calamari, with bulbous eyes perched on either side of its tall head. One of the so-called Builders, maybe. Not a species Carth had ever seen before, that much was for sure.</p><p>Unlike the droid on Dantooine, the holo spoke Basic. “Lifeforms detected. Determining parameters. Initiating neural recognition… primary neural recognition complete.”</p><p>Velire didn’t deactivate her sabers, and they threw eerie blue and violet light over the holo-cradle. She lifted her chin, fearless. “We’re here for the Star Map.”</p><p>The installation’s hum seemed to grow all the louder. Then: “Preliminary match found.”</p><p>Carth, meanwhile, could only watch with increasing incredulity. <em>Match found?</em></p><p>—</p><p>With the Star Map theirs at last, they had no reason to linger. Despite exhaustion wearing everyone down, the team voted to cover as much ground as they could before making camp, eager to return to the relative safety of Kashyyyk’s upper boughs.</p><p>A wary unease twisted Carth’s gut into knots, and the more he thought about their encounter with the alien machine, the more tangled they got. As their party set out, he fell in step beside Velire. “Don’t you think it’s strange that you matched the security system’s profile?”</p><p>She blinked. “No. Why would that be strange?”</p><p>“So five years ago, Revan and Malak came for the Star Map and did Force knows what to that computer’s programming, presumably to stop anyone else from following in their footsteps. Then we come along and it lets you access the Star Map.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed both Bastila and Jolee watching, silent spectators.</p><p>Velire’s eyebrows furrowed with the first inkling of suspicion—then a moment later, her face went eerily blank. Like a permacrete wall came down. “It doesn’t matter. We have what we came for.”</p><p>For a moment, Carth could only gape at her. “Of course it matters. That security system was reprogrammed by Darth Revan, so why would you be a match?”</p><p>This time she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Just because the computer was programmed to say that doesn’t mean it’s true.”</p><p>“Doesn’t change the fact that it was looking for something, and you were the only one who passed the test.”</p><p>“I’ve never been to Kashyyyk before in my life. I don’t know what that droid was looking for, okay?”</p><p>“That’s quite enough from both of you.” Bastila stepped between them in one smooth motion. “Excess noise will attract yet more threats to our party.”</p><p>Velire’s sharp gaze flicked from Carth to Bastila, then she wrestled her expression under control. “Fine. Let’s go. Zaalbar’s waiting.”</p><p>Without a further word, she strode away to the head of the column. Carth had to begrudgingly acknowledge the brilliance of appealing to Velire’s nascent protective streak, as it was the quickest way to get her to cooperate.</p><p>But he wasn’t inclined to give Bastila any credit, especially not when she turned her reproachful gaze on him. “Must the two of you squabble at every turn?”</p><p>“I’m not squabbling with anyone,” he answered curtly. “I just want some answers. Don’t you think that was one hell of a lucky coincidence? If she hadn’t been here, would we have gotten to the Star Map at all?”</p><p>Maybe it was just the eerie atmosphere, but for a moment, Bastila’s expression seemed strained. “There are no coincidences, Carth. The Force has chosen to provide for us in our time of need. I know this is difficult for you to accept, but you must learn to place your faith in the Force and in the Council.”</p><p><em>Great. More Jedi nonsense.</em> As soon as Bastila started on that track, Carth knew any hope of finding answers was lost. “You’re damn right I can’t accept that this just so happened to fall into our lap at the right moment.”</p><p>“Carth—”</p><p>“Ah, forget it.” Rather than give her another opportunity to spout off about the Force or anything else, Carth strode away to the safer company of Mission and Juhani.</p><p>As they began their tedious trek back to the elevator basket, Carth was only half-watching their surroundings. He ran over their altercation with the ancient alien computer over and over, hunting for any clue as to what just happened. What were the holo’s exact words? <em>Neural recognition—match found.</em></p><p>Carth couldn’t help but glance in Velire’s direction, noting the way she rubbed a thumb against that spot just above her eyebrow. He recognised the gesture from their first days on Taris when she’d suffered persistent headaches.</p><p>He thought again of her empty expression, and a chill ran through him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Edit: Tweaked a few things.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Rwookrrorro’s victory celebration closed in on its sixth hour, Velire had to wonder if the ability to sense the living Force and all things within it robbed a person of their ability to enjoy a decent party. After a week of skirmishing, the Wookiees of Kashyyyk had conquered the spaceport, wrangling control of the planet from Czerka’s hands. Despite the grave cost—or perhaps because of it—a grand celebration now sprawled through the entire village.</p><p>Low-set tables and cushions had been set up in the throne room, all but groaning under the weight of the sumptuous feast Freyyr had ordered. There were more meat dishes than Velire had names for, some supplemented with fruits and vegetables, their rich mouth-watering aroma filling the hall. Freyyr had even ensured that a few dishes weren’t so spicy they’d burn an offworlder’s stomach, courtesy of supplies liberated from the spaceport. Mighty jugs of cortyg brandy and grakkyn sat in frequent intervals across the tables, which Jolee had warned the <em>Hawk</em>’s crew to steer clear of if they valued life and liver. Rwookrrorro’s finest musicians, with their clarions and drums, attracted both elegant dancers and drunk celebrants who thought they could dance. That combined with the rumble of Shyriiwook provided a near-thunderous ambience.</p><p>No expense had been spared; indeed, it was difficult to reconcile the lavishly-outfitted throne room with the battleground of a mere week ago, even if Velire knew the rich tapestries hid carbon scoring on the walls. More than once, her eyes travelled to the spot where Chuundar fell.</p><p>On the uppermost dais, Freyyr and four allied chieftains presided over the celebration, deep in conversation. Zaalbar was seated in a place of honour at Freyyr’s right; while he did not speak often, Freyyr listened to his input, and the others took their cues from the old chieftain. Despite the occasion, father and son had a sombre slant to their shoulders, no doubt from the memory of Chuundar’s funeral that still smouldered in their black eyes.</p><p>Tearing her gaze away from the dais, Velire took another sip of her pilfered blossom wine in the hopes of dulling the echo of violence. She found herself hanging back—and not just because partaking in Wookiee festivities carried a real risk of breaking her fragile Human bones. The Force provided another avenue for the volume of recent events to assail her, one that bypassed the imprecision of her squishy organic senses. While the party’s furor made for a loud distraction, Chuundar’s death lingered, staining the air with more than the woody aroma of spices and brandy.</p><p>Perhaps all that was why so many Jedi were averse to fun, and Velire had to wonder when she became one of them.</p><p>A spike of irritation flared through the bond, and Velire glanced around. As the only offworlders still welcome on the planet, her companions were easy to find—well, if one could find them in the bustling crowd of seven-foot-tall locals. At least with the bond, Velire could pinpoint Bastila’s location, seated on a pile of cushions as far away from the musicians as she could get. Mission plopped down beside her, cross-legged with a cheeky grin. No doubt trying to draw Bastila out of the shell she’d retreated into to maintain her composure. Underneath Bastila’s short patience, a thread of bemused gratitude sang like a harp-note through the bond.</p><p>Nearby, Jolee was helping himself to thirds at the buffet, while Juhani and some young Wookiee women had overcome their mutual reserve to sit together. Canderous had somehow been welcomed into conversation with Grrrwahrr and other hunters. His admiration for the Wookiees’ ferocity in battle and their shock tactics against Czerka no doubt helped smooth things over.</p><p>Velire scanned the room again, but couldn’t see Carth anywhere. She stretched out her Force senses, braving the riot of emotion and vitality, seeking his familiar spark the way clear water tumbled along a river bed, turning over smooth stones in its grasp.</p><p>Rising to her feet, she eased through the throng of Wookiees to reach the exit. The celebration extended outside through Rwookrrorro’s network of boardwalks and terraces. As soon as she stepped out of the throne room, the stifling heat gave way to crisp air made acrid by the tang of smoke from nearby bonfires. Underneath that lingered the stench of something namelessly damp and verdant.</p><p>From the ramp, Velire had a decent view of the tiers of the village. More locals gathered in clumps around buffets and fire pits, taking up any and all space as they traded stories and jokes. Carth had situated himself at the edge of the plaza just below the throne room, leaning his elbows back against the railing.</p><p>Slipping through the crowd, Velire made her way towards him. While Carth’s perch gave him a wide field of view to survey his surroundings, his gaze was dark, distant, and he didn’t notice her approach until she was almost by his side.</p><p>Carth blinked at her sudden appearance. “Was there something you needed?”</p><p>“I didn’t notice you leave.” Velire leaned on the railing beside him. “Something wrong, flyboy?”</p><p>He grimaced. “No, I’m just… just thinking.”</p><p>“Brooding, more like.”</p><p>“Brooding? I’m not brooding!”</p><p>“No? After a mighty victory driving slavers off Kashyyyk, our intrepid hero lurks in a dark corner with a scowl on his face. That, I’m afraid, is brooding as depicted in every holodrama in the galaxy.”</p><p>Carth fixed her with a sharp look. “Sister, has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?”</p><p>“You have,” she said brightly. “Last week, if I recall correctly.”</p><p>It managed to draw a chuckle from him, albeit one that quickly faded away.</p><p>Velire softened her tone. “Come on. The history-keepers will be starting soon, and I, for one, don’t want to miss it.”</p><p>Carth’s expression betrayed that he didn’t quite share her enthusiasm. “You seem rather excited about it.”</p><p>“Besides the fact it’s a rare honour for Wookiees to share their history with offworlders? Language is the expression of a culture, built on a shared understanding of history, myth and identity. Most languages are brimming with idioms based on cultural references, and knowing the context of these provides a more complete understanding of—” Velire broke off, realising he was watching her with open interest. She cleared her throat, strangely flustered under the warmth of his gaze. “What?”</p><p>For once, Carth’s expression was unguarded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Abruptly, she decided that he didn’t smile often enough. “I think you missed your true calling. Instead of smuggling contraband along the Kessel Run, you could have taught linguistics in some Alderaanian university or found a position as a diplomat’s translator.”</p><p>Velire found herself looking away even as something of a wistful smile curled her lips. “I’m afraid those aren’t the kinds of opportunities afforded to girls from a backrocket Rim world like Deralia.”</p><p>“Seems to me like you’ve always had a knack for making your own opportunities. What made you leave your homeworld, then?”</p><p>Suddenly it felt like an immense privilege to still have a homeworld, one she’d never appreciated. She swallowed. “When my mother died, I had no reason to stay. So I left. Became a waitress, believe it or not.”</p><p>Carth’s disbelieving laugh rang through the canopy. “No way.”</p><p>Velire smiled despite herself. “Little cantina called The Dark Star on a no-name world in the Albanin sector. Hard to believe I come from such humble beginnings, I know.”</p><p>“How old were you?”</p><p>“Seventeen or eighteen. Long time ago.” It was almost unsettling how long it had been since she’d missed Deralia’s lonely colony and the vast grassland that surrounded it, the distant mountains penning her existence into one flat valley. She’d never appreciated it as much as she perhaps should have.</p><p>“Waiting tables to smuggling blasters and spice…” Carth mused. “What made you choose that over honest work?”</p><p>“I didn’t get paid enough to deal with picky customers, let alone all the groping.”</p><p>He grimaced in sympathy. “Still, that’s quite a dramatic career change.”</p><p>“The Outer Rim was in shambles thanks to the Mandalorians. When they reached the system, I hitched a ride with the first ship that would take me. They just so happened to be smugglers needing another pair of hands, and I learned a lot from them before striking out on my own. I moved around to stay away from the raiding, and the only kind of work I could find was… less than legal in most sectors, shall we say. But that’s enough about me.” Velire’s eyes half-narrowed as a shrewd smile spread across her face. “Congratulations on your most effective deflection to date.”</p><p>Carth’s mouth twitched, although his gaze was hooded. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”</p><p>“So then…” She settled on the railing with one elbow. “What are you ‘just thinking’ about that requires you to be out here all on your lonesome?”</p><p>Carth looked away. A veritable wall of grief slammed around him with enough force that her skin prickled. “I told you Telos was my homeworld. I— I had a wife and son there. Telos wasn’t hit during the Mandalorian Wars, so I thought it’d be safe from the Sith, too.”</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>Velire didn’t need to look any further than his eyes to know why he wasn’t with his family anymore.</p><p>Before she could scrape together a response that wasn’t a hollow platitude, Carth continued, “My wife died in the bombardment. I remember holding her and screaming for the medics, but they... they didn’t come in time.”</p><p>Something in Velire’s chest constricted. So that was the hurt he carried every day. She’d been so wrong on Taris when she’d dismissed him as nothing more than a career man. “I’m so sorry, Carth.”</p><p>He didn’t look at her. “I never found any trace of my son in the aftermath. I searched everywhere, followed the reports from Telos for years. This entire time I thought he was… but Jordo said he saw Dustil a few weeks ago.”</p><p>Velire blinked as the universe veered off its axis again. “What? Carth, that’s wonderful news!” Moments later, she took in his slumped shoulders and distinct lack of enthusiasm. Her eyes narrowed. “Or it should be, at any rate. What’s the catch?”</p><p>“Jordo saw him on Korriban. Wearing a Sith uniform.”</p><p>Velire closed the last centimetres of space between them, resting her hand on top of his. “We’ll find him, Carth. That’s a promise.”</p><p>Under her hand, his fingers tightened on the railing. “The Sith must have taken him during the attack. If they’ve hurt him at all, there will be hell to pay.” His eyes were hard, burning coals, then he looked away again. Swallowed hard. “I— I know what we’re doing here is important, but I can’t think about anything else until I see him again. He must be a man by now…”</p><p>A part of Velire was already calculating travel times and cataloguing what provisions they’d need for the venture. “We’ll set a course for Korriban once we’re finished on Kashyyyk.”</p><p>Carth’s head snapped up. He’d never concealed his moods from her, but there was something raw about the naked desperation of a parent that was almost too much for her to bear. “I thought we were headed for Manaan next.”</p><p>“Tatooine and Kashyyyk are backrockets, but the Sith have an embassy on Manaan. No doubt they’d watch our every move and report back to Malak. Better we take out Korriban before the Sith know all of us by name, not just Bastila. And if your son is there…” Velire gave a delicate shrug. “Then we have to get to Korriban as soon as possible.”</p><p>If Dustil had been spotted in uniform—not as a prisoner or a slave—then it was worryingly likely he was a student in the academy. Which meant he could graduate and be assigned a posting or, worse, fail a critical lesson. Privately, she had to wonder if Carth realised those facts. If he could see anything past the news that his son wasn’t dead.</p><p>Velire could practically watch the soldier marching across his face, shutting down his emotions, an instinct just as old if not older than fatherhood. No doubt bolstered by his fundamental inability to trust anything or anyone, let alone something too good to be true like the compromise she was offering to make for him.</p><p>“Bastila won’t like it,” Carth said at last. The final, desperate defence of a man too afraid to hope.</p><p>“Leave Bastila to me.”</p><p>He stared at her with an impossible gratitude and the first hint of something softer in his gaze. “Thank you. That means a lot.”</p><p>Velire found herself suddenly very conscious of the fact that her hand still rested on his. “It’s, well, it’s the least I can do.”</p><p>In the firelight, his gaze was half-shadowed yet somehow sincere, sending a skitter of warmth through her as one soundless second slid into two, then three. For the first time, she noticed Carth had lovely eyes: a warm whiskey brown, burnished with gold in the torchlight. Velire looked away first, feeling her face heat.</p><p>She heard him draw in a breath. “Lire—”</p><p>“There you are!”</p><p>A glimpse of blue was all the warning they had before Mission broke through a nearby throng of partygoers to reach them. “What are you guys doing out here? C’mon, the history-keepers are about to begin and Zaalbar didn’t want you to miss it.”</p><p>Velire cleared her throat. “Of course. Let’s go.”</p><p>As she pulled away, Carth caught her hand to give a quick squeeze before Mission dragged both of them back to the warmth and light of the celebration.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the quiet of the garage, Carth hunched over the workbench, one of his blasters in pieces before him. With their imminent arrival on Korriban, he was triple-checking all his equipment. Nobody could afford any mistakes, least of all him. Not with Dustil’s life on the line.</p><p>Carth hunted for a hair trigger he knew they’d picked up from the abandoned supply shop on Kashyyyk, but it wasn’t in any of the nearby drawers that Canderous and Zaalbar kept meticulously organised. If it wasn’t stored with the workbench, then maybe it had ended up in the cargo hold.</p><p>Carth made his way to the cargo hold only to discover the door was shut. But not locked, as it gave way without complaint. At once, he understood why: Velire occupied the makeshift training ring, lightsabers flashing as she ran through a quick-paced drill. She’d already swapped out her blue crystal for a second violet one as part of her cover as a fallen Jedi, and the twin blades danced in a dangerous tandem, humming with a constrained ferocity.</p><p>The sight made something in him pause. His skin prickled as he realised all the practice sabers still hung unused on their rack. From what he knew, the Jedi on board usually trained with the non-lethal sabers so they didn’t risk punching a hole in the hull.</p><p>But it was mesmerising to watch Velire in action. Without an imminent battle to steal his attention, he could fully appreciate her swift fury and lithe grace as she reached the far end of the training mat. Minus the usual drapery of her robes, every move showed off her well-toned frame and subtle curves. With a quick turn, she swept back the way she came, sparring with her own shadow. He noticed her eyes were closed.</p><p>When Velire reached the near side of the ring, she came to a halt, breathing hard. The burst of activity left the roll at her nape mussed and her side-swept fringe falling loose over her face. Her eyes slid open to rest on him. “Something you needed?”</p><p>A part of Carth wanted to reach out and tuck a stray lock behind her ear. He curled his hand into a fist instead. That— well, it wasn’t like that between them. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was only…”</p><p>Her voice was breathy from exertion. “You didn’t. I just needed to clear my head. I’ve had all the meditation and lectures on the dark side that I can take. It’s not even just Bastila, anymore.”</p><p>Ah. Made sense that Velire would be antsy about their upcoming mission. She’d volunteered to infiltrate the Sith Academy by posing as a prospective student, arguing that if there were any records of an ancient evil artifact, they’d have to be inside the academy archives. She’d also promised him, in private, that she would find Dustil no matter what.</p><p>A not-so-quiet resentment seethed in his gut that he’d been overruled and couldn’t storm the academy to find Dustil, but Bastila had reminded him that he probably wouldn’t be unknown to the Sith. Their cover could easily be blown if he was recognised.</p><p>The rest of them, meanwhile, would investigate as best they could in the hopes of bypassing the academy entirely. But Carth couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that the Sith would keep a stranglehold on any and all powerful artifacts. Needless to say, both Velire and Bastila were impatient for the vision and its vital clue on where to look.</p><p>Carth said, as reassuring as he could, “They mean well, I’m sure. And they’re the only ones here who really understand what you’re about to walk into. I sure can’t give you any advice on how to resist the dark side.”</p><p>He wished he could help, he really did, but all he had was conjecture. The bits and pieces he’d overheard from Bastila and the others were arranging themselves into a pattern he liked less and less. And something told him that no amount of theory or meditation could prepare anyone to walk into the rotten heart of Sith territory.</p><p>Velire’s shoulders dropped. “I know.”</p><p>“There is something else I can give you, though. The Republic doesn’t have many records on Korriban, but I made some inquiries. I’ll forward you the intelligence reports.”</p><p>Surprise and gratitude flitted across her face. “I appreciate it. Bastila convinced the Jedi to send along their most recent records on Korriban, too… which are all horribly out-of-date. But it’s better than nothing.”</p><p>Carth whistled in appreciation. “Bastila managed to squeeze extra information out of the Council? I’m impressed.”</p><p>“I think she wants to be useful. She doesn’t like having to sit this mission out. Neither do Juhani or Jolee, for that matter.”</p><p>It took a moment for Carth’s brain to catch up with the implication. “Wait a sec. You aren’t taking any of them with you?”</p><p>“Bastila can’t show her face on Korriban. Nine hells, it’d probably be smarter to drop her off on Dantooine before heading to Korriban, but she won’t hear of it.” Velire shook her head with something of a bemused expression as if she didn’t understand how Bastila could be so stubborn. The sheer irony of the gesture could have killed him. “Juhani already has enough to deal with while Jolee would no doubt be targeted by bullies because of his age. It’s not fair to ask either of them to take that risk.”</p><p>“No. It’s a bad idea to go into the kath hound’s den without backup.”</p><p>Velire was strong, but nobody was that strong. And no matter the uncanny way she’d taken to her training, he couldn’t shake the niggling detail that Jedi with decades more experience than her still fell to the dark side.</p><p>Ambivalence glimmered in her gaze as she regarded him, and there was a lingering tightness around her eyes. “We’re already risking one Jedi on the team. If— if anything happens, you’ll need all three of them.”</p><p>When she put it that way, it sounded smart. Pragmatic. And Carth hated it. “I think you need someone in your corner, as well.”</p><p>Velire ran a hand over her face, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. Her gaze drifted over his shoulder, focused on something far beyond the walls of the cargo hold. “I keep thinking about what could go wrong, and I can’t stand the thought of hurting you or anyone else. So I need to… take precautions. Make provisions. It’s the only thing I can do right now.”</p><p>Carth thought back to her display just a few minutes ago. At first glance, Velire’s speed was easily the most intimidating facet of her abilities, her lightsabers a blur as they sought a weak spot to exploit. But that, he knew, was only a fraction of what she was capable of. More than a few unfortunate bastards had underestimated her wiry strength and infernal cunning only to pay the price. Even now, in the wake of her burst of action, the tension hadn’t quite bled from her. She still held herself in a ready stance, whip coil-thin and ready to strike with lethal force. If she turned on him or anyone else on the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>, he’d be hard-pressed to stop her.</p><p>A cold feeling slithered through his gut.</p><p>Closing the distance between them, Carth settled his hands on her shoulders, thumbs resting on either side of her neck. “Lire. Look at me.” He waited until she obeyed, stiff and guarded. “I can’t tell you that you’re wrong to be wary, or that you shouldn’t be putting contingencies in place, but I can tell you that I know you’re capable of making it through this in one piece. Between your scoundrel days and your Jedi training, you have a lot of tricks up your sleeve. Play it safe, watch your six, and don’t hesitate to call for backup if you need it. We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”</p><p>Velire stared at him, wide-eyed, any reserve shattered by his vote of confidence. She raised a hand, her fingers curling around his wrist. Her pulse thrummed under his thumbs. “I— I’ll be careful. I promise.”</p><p>For the first time, Carth believed her when she said that. He gently squeezed her shoulders, then let his hands drop back to his sides. “Good. We haven’t come so far to lose you now.”</p><p>She surveyed him with an inscrutable expression that raised the hairs on his arms. “I need to go over some things with you. Set up protocols for various scenarios.”</p><p>“What kinds of scenarios are we talking about, here?”</p><p>Velire didn’t bat an eyelash as she said, “Under what circumstances you’re to change all the logins for the <em>Hawk</em>’s security systems or even evacuate the planet entirely.”</p><p>Carth’s chest felt impossibly tight. He <em>knew </em>it was practical. Knew that thorough preparation could mean the difference between success or failure, life or death. Just a few months ago, he would have been quietly making contingencies himself, but these days his personal planning involved how to keep everyone safe—including Velire.</p><p>She knew the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> inside out. She knew the crew along with their strengths and weaknesses. She knew every last detail of their mission. If the Sith tortured her for information, they’d strike a platinum mine of devastating intel. And if she turned—</p><p>He made a snap decision. “Later.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Lire, we’re both tired. We still have two days in transit. There’ll be time tomorrow.” And it would give him time to come to terms with the grim hypotheticals he knew were coming. He’d also need to consult with Bastila and Canderous privately. It was all well and good for Velire to make provisions, but they’d also need protocols she didn’t know about and couldn’t account for should the worst happen.</p><p>She pointed a severe finger at him. “First thing tomorrow, all right? We can’t put this off. It’s important.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Don’t you ma’am me, Commander.”</p><p>“Yes, beautiful.”</p><p>He caught her flat-footed, her eyes widening. “I—” She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s more like it.”</p><p>But it wasn’t quite enough to erase the lingering tension in her shoulders. Carth found himself taking a step towards her before he consciously thought to move. “Lire, I’m sorry you’re the one who has to do this. It’s not fair to you.”</p><p>As the words left his mouth, he realised just how long it’d been since the rank unfairness of the galaxy got to him. But even if he spent every day expecting another frack-you from the grand cosmos, it was different watching someone else suffer. Worse, somehow.</p><p>That weary, one-armed shrug again. “It is what it is. Not like I ever had a choice about any of this, anyway.” A humourless smile twisted her delicate features, then she shook herself out. “I should… go.”</p><p>Carth couldn’t say why, but he sensed the edge of a precipice near his feet. An uneasy feeling stole over him, nerves taut, anticipating the moment a foot would connect with empty air. It triggered the long-familiar instinct to find what didn’t belong.</p><p>Only Velire in front of him, eyes downcast, slipping by on silent feet. So unlike herself that it made the back of his neck prickle.</p><p>If she—</p><p>Carth held out a hand to stop her from passing him. “Hold on a second. There’s something I need to say, first.”</p><p>He’d taken his home for granted, before. Passed over so many opportunities to tell his family he loved them, assuming they already knew. Now, he couldn’t shake the yawning dread that if he didn’t say anything, he’d never get another chance.</p><p>Surprise flitted across her face, but she paused. “I’m listening.”</p><p>“From the get-go, something has been wrong with this mission. I blamed it on you, before, but the Jedi left you in the dark as well, didn’t they? They never even gave you a choice, just pushed this burden on you without even the courtesy of telling you the full story.”</p><p>Her expression shifted with incredulity. She still didn’t believe his suspicions about the Council. “Carth—”</p><p>“Look, I’m not trying to cast doubts on the Jedi when you’re about to go into enemy territory. What I mean is that you never asked for any of this, but you still committed everything you have. I want you to know that’s not for nothing. You have a lot of courage to volunteer for this. And it’s why I know you can make it through this in one piece. If you can pick up a cause you never believed in and come to fight for it wholeheartedly, you can fight whatever’s waiting on Korriban. I should’ve said it long before now, but I’m glad you’re here. And I’m sorry for doubting you. I hope you can forgive me.”</p><p>“Forgiven.”</p><p>Carth blinked, taken aback. “Just like that?”</p><p>Velire’s gaze was clear, steady, as she regarded him. “I know that isn’t something you say lightly. You’re a career man. You’ve seen people turn away from their ideals before. The fact that I didn’t really care about the Republic or the Sith before being caught up in this mess should be fairly damning evidence that I’m unreliable.”</p><p>“You’re many things, Lire, but unreliable isn’t one of them.” Before he could help himself, he muttered, “More reliable than me, in some respects.”</p><p>“Don’t sell yourself short, flyboy. You’re pretty handy to have around, yourself.”</p><p>A part of him felt strangely warm that she appreciated his presence. “Oh? I believe you once said I was here to look pretty and pilot the ship.”</p><p>She tilted her head to one side, her expression shifting to something more playful. One corner of her mouth curled up in her lopsided smile. “And I may have been wrong when I suggested you were competent at only one of those things.”</p><p>Despite himself, Carth wasn’t entirely immune to the effect. He smirked back at her. “So now you’re ready to admit I’m the most handsome star-pilot in the galaxy, huh?”</p><p>Velire pinned him with an assessing look, one finger tapping against her chin. “I don’t know if I’d go that far…”</p><p>“You’re killing me here, beautiful.”</p><p>She winked. “I’m very charming, or so I’m told.”</p><p>“More than that.” The words, quiet though they were, escaped his mouth before his brain caught up. From the faint blush spreading across her cheeks, she’d heard him. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I, uh, shouldn’t keep you any longer.”</p><p>“Of course.” Velire half-turned, then hesitated. “Thanks, Carth. For everything.”</p><p>“Hey.” He barely averted the urge to reach for her again. To reassure her or himself, he wasn’t sure. “Don’t say it like it’s a goodbye.”</p><p>She gave him another long, inscrutable look. “It’s not. You can’t get rid of me that easily, flyboy.”</p><p>Before he could scrounge up a response, she slipped away, leaving him alone in the cargo hold. It occurred to him that he’d forgotten what he’d come in for in the first place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After yet another late night in the Sith Academy’s archives, Velire shambled back to her quarters with HK-47 and T3-M4 in tow. Despite her best efforts, her footsteps echoed through the dead air. The corridors were lined with basalt black stonework sporting intricate sunk-relief etchings that seemed to absorb all light and were cold to the touch. She didn’t dare take off her gloves within the academy; they offered meagre protection at best, but she couldn’t be without.</p><p>Despite her exhaustion, Velire could navigate the academy without thinking—and between training, valley excursions, nighttime study, and endless paranoia, she didn’t have any time or energy to spare for getting lost. Hopefuls weren’t granted full access to the archives, yet it was all but expected that they would snoop around anyway. As long as they weren’t caught, it was permitted. Despite everything, Velire found herself captivated by the archives with its wealth of knowledge that she would never find anywhere else in the galaxy. Grim knowledge, terrible knowledge, but knowledge nonetheless, and she found she could not look away.</p><p>That scared her most of all.</p><p>Not for the first time, Velire’s hand drifted to one belt pouch which held a crystal Juhani had pressed into her palm before they’d landed. Quatra had gifted it to Juhani shortly after taking her on as her Padawan, to give her a focus when she was troubled. By now Velire knew it as well as her own handprint: a cloudy white-teal stone shot through with flecks of gold, its facets worn to a gentle smoothness by years of handling. She could imagine its exact heft in her palm, its texture against her fingers, its gentle coolness. The tiny chip in one end as if it had once been dropped.</p><p>Behind the slabs of stone that guarded her assigned quarters, she’d be if not safe, then safe enough to take the crystal out of its hiding place. Safe enough to shed her layers of deception and cradle the crystal in her hands and remind herself why she was here.</p><p>Scant feet from her door, HK-47 stopped. “Observation: Master, I am detecting life signs within your quarters.”</p><p>Velire froze. She only sensed the pervasive chill that suffused every surface on the planet—a coldness that could cloak an enemy from her sight, when she resisted wading into that oily ambience.</p><p>By the door panel, T3-M4 chirped a soft string of binary, reporting that the system had logged one intrusion since she’d left her quarters.</p><p>“Query: Shall I eliminate the hostile, master?”</p><p>To date, the other students and hopefuls had greatly underestimated her droids when they weren’t organic, let alone connected to the Force. But it was precisely that reason that made them so valuable when neither their sensors nor their judgement could be manipulated by mind tricks. HK-47 enjoyed the frequent bursts of wanton violence, his gleeful savagery taking more than a few Sith aback, and even T3-M4 had covertly set a few robes on fire. To say nothing of the new subroutines she’d programmed just a day before planetfall, that they monitor her for signs of corruption and report back to the<em> Ebon Hawk</em> if necessary. It was a thin comfort, but it was all she had.</p><p>Frowning in thought, Velire hoped whoever thought to ambush her wasn’t prepared to take on her droids as well. “Don’t attack unless they strike first. Incapacitate them if you must, but leave them alive. I want to ask a few questions.”</p><p>HK-47’s photoreceptors seemed to dim with disappointment. “Very well, master. Commentary: I hope the intruder attacks first.”</p><p>“Of course you do,” Velire remarked with a mildness she didn’t feel and gestured to T3-M4 to open the door.</p><p>Her quarters were dark; the light from the corridor could scarcely pierce more than a few feet, illuminating the plain tiles beneath her feet. But there was no depth or substance, only ghostly shapes and brief snatches of light to alleviate the black. Lightsabers in hand, Velire scanned the room, noting the dim, looming contours of her desk, her footlocker, her bed—</p><p>There. A strange form on the far side of the room that didn’t belong. The faintest glimmer of eyes in the dark.</p><p>“Stop staring already and shut the door!” a voice hissed. Dustil.</p><p>Surprise flitted through Velire. She obeyed, waving her droids inside and only turning on the lights after the door cycled shut. Dustil leaned against the far wall, as surly as ever with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t seem especially pleased to see her, but that was normal.</p><p>What wasn’t normal was that he’d sought her out of his own volition.</p><p>Velire arched a cool eyebrow. “I thought we agreed it’s best if no one sees us together.”</p><p>“No one saw me.” Spoken with the particular bravado only a teenager could possess.</p><p>The fact it was just Dustil didn’t allow her to relax. No, she found the familiar mask sliding into place, and kept her voice smooth and lilting. “The walls have eyes in a place like this.”</p><p>Dustil’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened with offence. While the colour of his eyes was all Carth’s, the shape was softer and his brow was structured differently. “This was my home for three years. I know that better than you do.”</p><p>“Then I assume you have an excellent reason for being here.”</p><p>Dustil pushed off the wall. He was almost as tall as his father, putting him at about the same height as Velire. But despite his years of training, he hadn’t quite lost his rangy teenage build. He made it only two steps forward before halting, eyes fixed on the raised muzzle of HK-47’s blaster rifle.</p><p>“Warning: Step closer and be blasted, meatbag offspring!”</p><p>Velire fought a sigh. Trust HK-47 to use the loosest possible interpretation of her orders. Still, she should be thankful he didn’t register Dustil’s movement as a full-fledged attack and proceed to the blasting part. “HK, stand down.”</p><p>“Very well, master.” This time his photoreceptors definitely dimmed as he lowered his rifle.</p><p>Velire made a mental note to add Dustil to HK-47’s programmed list of organics to never fatally attack. “Don’t mind HK. What are you here for?”</p><p>Dustil affected disinterest even though his hand was well past played. “Since you haven’t abandoned this little ruse after finding me, it seems fair to assume you’re here for another reason. I thought you should know that you’re the pick from this crop of hopefuls. It’s tradition that Master Uthar will make the announcement at the end of the week.”</p><p>At last. At last, the Star Map was in reach. A part of Velire wondered if it still qualified as a light at the end of the tunnel when it was a path leading into the black of Naga Sadow’s tomb. “Is that so? Where did you find this out, exactly?”</p><p>“As you said, the walls have eyes. I’ve watched a lot of hopefuls apply to the academy and I went through it myself. I know what the headmaster looks for in potential students. Not to mention you’ve eliminated most of your competition…”</p><p>“‘Eliminated’ implies I killed them all.”</p><p>Dustil arched an eyebrow, a faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes. “You didn’t? I guess a Jedi isn’t willing to do whatever it takes just to keep your cover. Uthar thinks you targeted your rivals on purpose, you know. It probably earned you bonus points.”</p><p>“I kill when I have to. No more.” Nevermind that she no longer knew when she <em>had </em>to, and when it was merely <em>convenient</em>. Shoving the unsettling thought away, Velire returned her focus to Dustil. “Thank you for letting me know. I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about the final test?”</p><p>“Ignoring the fact I’m not supposed to? When we— when I joined, Jorak Uln was still headmaster. For the final trial, two dozen of us were dropped into the wastes. Those who made it across the valley earned a place in the academy. Now with so many hopefuls clogging the— I mean, hanging around, the tests have gotten harder.” He paused. “I don’t know what’s waiting for you in the tomb of Naga Sadow, but it’ll be bad.”</p><p>“I sure wouldn’t bet against you there. Thank you, Dustil.”</p><p>He barely batted an eyelash, let alone moved to leave, which made the first curl of suspicion twist in her gut. “I told Father I’d dig up information to help you, and I meant it. Although I suppose you might have already known, since you somehow broke into Uthar’s private terminal. I’m wondering how you managed that when his chambers are brimming with traps.”</p><p>Velire arched an eyebrow. “I’m a woman of many talents.”</p><p>Dustil paused, wary, then met her gaze. “If you’re so talented, then you shouldn’t have a problem getting me access to Uthar’s files, too.”</p><p>Ah. There it was.</p><p>Velire canted her head to one side, keeping her expression even. “Selene’s murder wasn’t enough for you?”</p><p>Pain spasmed across his face. A part of her regretted poking that particular wound, but another colder part compelled her to prod him back and figure out his game. “It was. But I… I need to know what else they lied to me about. And maybe some of that information will be useful, I don’t know.”</p><p>For a moment, Velire wasn’t looking at a Sith student, but a lost teenager scrambling to make sense of his world turned upside down. She drew in a breath, hoping to banish that coldness. “I understand. But you need to be careful. You’re in danger now more than ever. If even one person suspects you…”</p><p>Dustil lifted his chin, once again all bravado. His mouth was narrower and fuller than Carth’s, but the stubborn line was entirely too familiar. “You don’t have to tell me. I know what they do to traitors. So give me what I want to know, and I’ll have a better chance of making it out alive.”</p><p>Velire hesitated, torn between the knowledge he was right and the fact that he would make an attempt if she explained how she’d broken into Uthar’s terminal—but then, he was probably going to try no matter what she said. Dustil was of the unfortunate age where he was too bantha-headed to listen to good sense or any adult, especially not one designated Father’s Lady Friend.</p><p>At the same time, Velire couldn’t imagine having to tell Carth that Dustil had been discovered and executed before making his escape.</p><p>She resisted a sigh. “It’s too risky to break into Uthar’s quarters, but his personal terminal is still linked to the academy’s servers. So he can access security feeds and the like from the comfort of his quarters, no doubt. While his terminal isn’t normally visible on the academy network, T3 and I were able to exploit a system vulnerability and gain access.”</p><p>Praying she wouldn’t regret it, Velire grabbed a datapad from the stack on her desk, wiped the local storage, and held it out to T3-M4. “Copy the intrusion protocol we wrote to access the headmaster’s terminal.” As the astromech obeyed, she turned back to Dustil. “I suggest you route through the terminal of someone who’s a real schutta. Someone you don’t mind seeing dead if security gets wind of it.”</p><p>Dustil nodded. When she held out the datapad, he turned it over slowly in his hands. His expression was unreadable. “No one will catch me. I promise.”</p><p>Velire fought a chill. Sometimes it was a mistake to taunt the Force like that. “Make sure you have an exit strategy planned. Preferably a means to leave Korriban at once. Any of your friends that you’ve convinced need to leave as well. If you have to, go to the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> in Bay 24-C.”</p><p>As she said it, she knew that if Dustil had to flee to the <em>Hawk</em>, they’d need to evacuate immediately to stop the Sith from capturing Dustil, leaving her stranded on Korriban. Another variable she’d have to account for.</p><p>Dustil looked up at her, then. Hesitated. “Thanks.”</p><p>Velire inclined her head. “Consider us even.”</p><p>“Whatever you’re up to, I suggest you make your escape before Uthar calls on you for the final test…” He paused a moment. When she didn’t react, he continued, “Unless that’s what you’re here for.”</p><p>“If you’ve survived in the academy this long, you should know better than to ask questions I can’t answer.”</p><p>“Yeah, I can just imagine what you’re really up to in here. But whatever it is, you’ve dragged the old man into it.”</p><p>Velire gave him an empty smile. “Dustil, please. I’m sure you have conflicting feelings on your father, but don’t use him as a pawn in this little game.”</p><p>Maybe in another place, she could let her guard down enough to engage honestly with him, but here they could be nothing but two firaxa circling in black waters. Wary and waiting for the scent of blood.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Can you blame me for wanting to know why exactly Father is here? With you?”</p><p>Velire ignored the little stress he placed on ‘you’. “Your father had the distinct misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. As did I. The rest is history.”</p><p>Dustil folded arms across his chest. “Uh-huh. Just what is my father to you, anyway?”</p><p>“Pain in my ass, that’s what.” If she focused her entire being on the words, with no distractions, Dustil wouldn’t be able to sense anything that would bring a lie to her words. After all, it was the truth. It just maybe wasn’t the entire truth.</p><p>Dustil tilted his head to one side. “And what are you to him?”</p><p>Velire paused. It was becoming clear just how Dustil had managed to thrive in the academy despite never renouncing his surname. “A pain in his ass.”</p><p>Once, she’d been confident that was the truth. Now she had to wonder what answer Carth would give.</p><p>Dustil snorted. “You really expect me to believe that you hate each other, but you’re still helping him? I’m not stupid, you know.”</p><p>“It’s called having principles,” Velire said glibly.</p><p>He shot her a sour look, so much like Carth’s she had to smother a laugh. “So you’re only helping the old man out of the goodness of your heart? Yeah, right. Cut the act already.”</p><p>“You say that as if we aren’t standing in the Korriban Academy, where no one wears their real face.”</p><p>“Enough! You think I can’t tell you’re all over each other? That Father’s gotten himself tangled up with a… whatever you are, exactly?”</p><p>Velire said mildly, “I know your teachers have probably told you all sorts of awful things about Jedi, but we don’t do relationships.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she realised it was true. And she wasn’t sure why she felt disheartened by that.</p><p>She was pulled out of that mental dead-end by Dustil snapping, “Stop lying!”</p><p>“I’m not,” she said, clipped. “We aren’t together. And you’d be able to tell that if you paid attention to what’s actually there and not what you want to see.”</p><p>“Like hell I want to see my father with another woman—”</p><p>Velire kept going, propelled by the thorny knot behind her breastbone and darker undercurrents she didn’t want to examine too closely. “But you <em>do</em>. You want to blame him for everything, and it’s that much easier to hate him if he’s betrayed your mother one last time. Isn’t it?”</p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”</p><p>Velire could only see the hollow half-life Carth had lived since Telos, propped up by duty alone because he had nothing else left. “Don’t I? Maybe he doesn’t know you… but you don’t know him, either.”</p><p>Dustil rocked back on his heels. “Shut up! Just shut up!”</p><p>Suddenly tired, Velire resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I think we’re done here, Dustil. Good night.”</p><p>He didn’t fight that, at least. “Fine.”</p><p>She didn’t turn to watch him slink past her, merely waited for the stony grind of the door cycling open and closed. Then and only then could she drop the shredded remains of her composure.</p><p>
  <em>What am I doing? </em>
</p><p>Velire ran a hand over her face. She was just— tired. Tired and stressed and more than ready to escape this place before it ate her soul.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>The ghosts of their words lingered in the air. Velire found herself wondering what her relationship with Carth even was. Not what Dustil insinuated, that was for sure. Carth was preoccupied with avenging his wife and Velire herself had never been especially interested in having a bunkmate. Nine hells, she felt attraction so rarely it may as well have been non-existent, usually little more than a vague aesthetic appreciation for a handsome sent.</p><p>As for Carth—well. He was handsome, sure, but that wasn’t the reason why Velire could still feel the heat of his hands on her shoulders from their talk in the cargo bay. In those private moments, she’d felt safe with him. Close, even. She had to wonder—if he could ever bury the bodies he still carried on his back, if she could ever prove to him it was safe to trust her—</p><p>Beside her, T3-M4 chirped an inquiry.</p><p>Velire realised she was toying with Juhani’s crystal. With a tired smile, she patted the top of his head. “I’m fine, T3. Thank you.”</p><p>Well, she could safely say Carth meant something to her. Maybe that was enough.</p><p>“Observation: Master, the meatbag offspring did not show you adequate respect. Commentary: I would happily blast him on your behalf.”</p><p>“No. No blasting. Just… activate your watchdog protocol.”</p><p>“As you say, master. Engaging sentinel routine.” HK-47 took position by the door, rifle cocked.</p><p>Normally it was comforting to know that HK-47 was watching at all hours of the day, but now she couldn’t escape the malevolent red glow of his photoreceptors that surely didn’t fail to note how frazzled she was after her conversation with Dustil.</p><p>Velire closed her eyes. <em>Some Jedi I am</em>.</p><p>Hefting the crystal in her grip, she stripped the pillow and blanket off her bed and settled in the tiny alcove, out of sight of the door. Legs crossed, she held the crystal in both hands and drew in a deep breath, willing the day’s turmoil to slide off her back like rainwater off a stone.</p><p>
  <em>I am a Jedi, and I must endure.</em>
</p><p>Her last thought before her mind drifted was of Carth’s hands on her shoulders.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deep into the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s night cycle, against all logic or reason, Carth still occupied the cockpit. Besides the light from the consoles, the cockpit was illuminated by cold blue stars streaking across the viewport, the lonely infinity of space yawning behind them.</p>
<p>At this point, the <em>Hawk</em>’s collection of misfits could arguably be called a crew, ready for another long haul along the hyperlane to Manaan. Bastila, meanwhile, remained irked that they weren’t returning to Dantooine to recover, but Carth didn’t trust that the Jedi Enclave could provide refuge twice. Velire had been unconscious during that particular argument, unable to break the stalemate, so Canderous had ended up yelling that ‘anywhere that isn’t here’ was good enough.</p>
<p>Over the last three days, Carth made a series of smaller jumps to throw off any would-be pursuers from Korriban. All sensors were quiet, and most of the crew had relaxed.</p>
<p>For his part, Carth didn’t have to be at his post so late. The<em> Hawk</em> was on autopilot, hurtling through hyperspace with T3-M4 ever-ready in case of an emergency. In fact, it’d be smarter for Carth to turn in and get some sleep. Instead, he toyed with his personal datapad, his thoughts jumping around like gizka on a stovetop.</p>
<p>The message he’d received before leaving Korriban scrawled across the screen, each word as familiar as his own handprint.</p>
<p>
  <em>Father</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m leaving Korriban on the freighter Celadon Crown. You clearly have some mission to complete, and I know better than to ask about it. If you need or want to contact me, use this account.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dustil</em>
</p>
<p>Brusque, if not outright dismissive—and yet Dustil had still taken the time to send it. That had to mean something. Even if Carth suspected the message had been rewritten several times.</p>
<p>Fiddling with the datapad, Carth opened a fresh draft, but couldn’t put to screen the gnarled emotions, as pained as they were relieved, that twisted behind his breastbone.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m sorry I can’t go with you—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thank you for giving me a chance—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Your mother would be proud of you—</em>
</p>
<p>With a sigh, Carth switched off his datapad. There’d be time later to write a reply when his head was clearer.</p>
<p>“Hey, flyboy.”</p>
<p>Carth swivelled in the pilot’s chair to see none other than Velire hovering on the threshold. The dim night cycle lighting threw odd shadows over her form. Without the bulk of her robes, she seemed little more than a slender silhouette, wearing only a sleeveless undershirt and leggings. A kolto bandage still peeked out around one shoulder while scrapes and half-healed burns mottled her arms. Worst of all were the bruises on her neck. Even yellowed as they were, Carth felt his chest tighten whenever he saw them.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. “Hey, yourself. Can’t sleep?”</p>
<p>Velire needed no more urging to slink into the cockpit—not that she usually asked for permission. Or ever asked for permission, really, but there was something hesitant in the way she carried herself as she sank into the co-pilot’s chair and checked their course. And, he couldn’t help but notice, the readouts from the detection systems.</p>
<p>Carth had barely glimpsed her since she’d staggered up the boarding ramp three days ago, reeking of laser burns and acrid death. After a stint in medbay, she’d been more or less locked in the women’s dorm with Bastila and Juhani. Carth wasn’t sure what the debriefing protocol was for Jedi returning from missions that exposed them to the dark side, but he assumed it involved meditating.</p>
<p>Seeing Velire now, he had to wonder if the meditation had done any good. She still possessed an ashen cast to her skin, either from lingering injury or the dark side. Or both. And that made him look closer, hunting for the tell-tale tracings of veins across her temples or a glimpse of yellow in her eyes.</p>
<p>He found only exhaustion in her face. A jarring contrast to the poised yet fierce Jedi he’d come to expect, or even the smooth-talking scoundrel she’d been when they first met.</p>
<p>Carth had hoped that when he finally saw her, the gnawing, prickly feeling in his gut would go away. But now her subdued manner was just as unnerving as her month-long absence from the <em>Hawk</em>. Something about the unhappy twist of her mouth made him ache to pull her into his arms, to reassure himself that she was here and whole and her skin wasn’t cold with the dark side. He didn’t want to think about what he would’ve done if she hadn’t made it back to the ship. Or worse, if she’d chosen to remain in the academy.</p>
<p>Velire tucked her legs beneath her and ran a hand through her loose hair. “I keep expecting to wake up with a vibroknife between my ribs.”</p>
<p>Hardly a surprise, but Carth found himself concerned all the same. Their eyes met over the centre console. “Velire. No one here is going to hurt you. I promise.”</p>
<p>The blue light of hyperspace traced over the gentle planes of her face, following the curve of her cheek and highlighting the surprise in her eyes. Followed by gratitude, and something softer. “I know. I just need—time.”</p>
<p>Espionage had never been in a typical pilot’s job description, so Carth didn’t have much firsthand experience with those who returned from behind enemy lines. But it gnawed at him all the same. “If there’s anything you need to get off your chest…”</p>
<p>During their stint on Korriban, Velire had confided in him once or twice, in the rare moments that she’d managed to slip away from the academy. Other times he’d spotted her in hushed conversation with Bastila or Jolee or Juhani. Carth doubted any of them got the full story, and it itched at him that she had to endure alone in the cold academy walls.</p>
<p>Velire exhaled, not quite a sigh, and shifted in her seat. “That’s generous of you.”</p>
<p>“Think of it as me returning a favour.”</p>
<p>A ghost of a smile lifted her face, little more than a shadow of her typical smirk. But even that extinguished all too quickly. “Speaking of favours, have you heard from Dustil?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. He managed to find a ship to take him off-world.”</p>
<p>Her shoulders dropped in relief. “Good. Good. I was worried he wouldn’t be able to escape before being found out. Guess the academy was a little preoccupied with my antics.” Another quirk of her mouth, this time more like her lopsided smirk.</p>
<p>Just behind Carth’s breastbone, that little spot he’d come to associate with her felt warm. It was one thing to ask for her help, another for her to care. Not that he should’ve been surprised by that anymore.</p>
<p>It was something for him to think about, at any rate.</p>
<p>“Dustil sent me a message that he’s left Korriban and, well… that’s probably as much as I can hope for. He’s still so full of anger.” The old grief and sense of failure crawled up Carth’s throat, making his jaw clench. “I don’t know if he’ll be my son again.”</p>
<p>“But you have a chance.” Velire’s voice was soft, yet her words filled the cockpit. “That has to be something, right?”</p>
<p>“It is,” he agreed. “And I have you to thank for that.”</p>
<p>She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Think nothing of it.”</p>
<p>“This is my son we’re talking about,” Carth replied, sharp enough to startle her. “I can’t think nothing of it. So thank you. I mean it. I don’t know if I could’ve convinced him to leave without your help.”</p>
<p>Any other day, it would be the time for her to make another deflection or even some wiseass remark. Instead, her gaze softened. In the starlit glow, all green hazel had leached away from her eyes, leaving only a play of liquid light on dark irises. “I was glad to help. Thank you for letting me.”</p>
<p>Admittedly, she hadn’t given him much choice. While a part of him still chafed at that, he certainly couldn’t argue with the results. “Well, if anyone’s earned it… you have.”</p>
<p>A realisation that should have staggered him. Did stagger him, but it had an inevitable rightness to it, like the silent alignment of stars.</p>
<p>
  <em>I trust Velire.</em>
</p>
<p>How long had it been? Four years, and no one else had cared to try. Not the way she had, weaselling through every crack in his defences with a stubborn patience that was as infuriating as it was flattering.</p>
<p>Now Carth found it hard to picture life without her sassing him, or bringing him caffa as a peace offering, or watching his back in the field. It was something to think about.</p>
<p>Velire’s gaze softened. An indeterminable emotion flitted across her features. “I’m glad to hear it.”</p>
<p>A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the occasional beep of an alert from the nav system. The scratchy sound of Velire shifting in her seat was loud in the quiet, and Carth glanced over to see her again checking the console readouts.</p>
<p>“All systems are quiet. We made a half-dozen jumps since leaving Korriban. If the Sith want to tail us, they’ll have to work for it.”</p>
<p>Velire pulled back from the console, her fingers curling almost sheepishly. “Right.”</p>
<p>“I know it’s hard to believe we aren’t being pursued—believe me, I know—but for the moment, things are looking quiet.” Carth couldn’t, in all honesty, tell her that they were safe. Not here, not on this mission. Not with the Sith scouring the galaxy. A part of him wished that he could be a little less jaded, just for her. Just to wipe away the hint of an anxious frown that furrowed her brow.</p>
<p>Another long exhale, just shy of a sigh. “Guess that’s all we can ask for.”</p>
<p>Carth hunted for something else to say, to fight the sense of resigned helplessness that draped around her shoulders. Something other than a platitude.</p>
<p>Before he could come up with anything decent, she asked, “Do you mind if I meditate in here?”</p>
<p>Carth glanced at her sidelong, one eyebrow raised. Curled up in a co-pilot’s chair wasn’t, to his knowledge, standard practice for Jedi meditation. Not that anything about Velire’s training had been standard practice. But if it meant she’d stay, if only for a few minutes longer, who was he to protest? “Go ahead.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. It’s warmer in the cockpit than in the cargo hold.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Carth arched an eyebrow. “I thought it was pretty cold in here, myself.”</p>
<p>But Velire’s eyes were already closed, her breaths deepening, even if something of a secret smile lingered around the corners of her mouth. Either she was messing with him, or her mind was already parsecs away. While he wouldn’t put the former past her, he had a sinking feeling it was the latter.</p>
<p>Even if several months under the Jedi Council’s thumb on Dantooine hadn’t fixed Velire’s attitude problem, Carth didn’t think she realised just how easily—and how much—she’d taken to the life of a Jedi. She could keep pace with Bastila and Juhani, who’d trained most of their lives, without breaking a sweat. From what he’d seen of Jedi, their skills were difficult to master, and yet Velire had an effortless strength. An apparent wellspring of raw power, even. And Carth hadn’t failed to notice how Bastila looked at Velire when she thought no one was watching.</p>
<p>Of course, Bastila had denied it when he wanted to know what it was about Velire that had her so damn concerned.</p>
<p>Not that he needed an explanation, really. Bastila’s trepidation was answer enough. She saw the same things he did, and it scared her as much as it scared him.</p>
<p>Once, not all too long ago, that would have made Carth all the more suspicious of Velire. Now he watched her meditate and prayed to whatever might be listening that she remained strong, no longer able to ignore the warmth he felt whenever she smiled, her eyes lighting up with amusement or joy or something softer.</p>
<p>It was a dangerous feeling. But Carth found himself minding less and less.</p>
<p>They’d never discussed the <em>thing</em> growing between them. Easier to pretend the flirts were casual and the quiet moments were nothing more than camaraderie. Easier to pretend he wasn’t disgracing Morgana’s memory while her killer was still on the loose. But their mission would only get more dangerous from here. Either one of them could die, or she could fall—</p>
<p>Carth scowled. <em>Face it. You’re already in too deep.</em></p>
<p>Even so, he couldn’t stop watching her. Only the precise electronics in the navicomputer recorded the passage of time; the cockpit may as well have been its own private world, separate even from the rest of the ship.</p>
<p>Soon enough, Velire’s brow twitched, then furrowed—and then in the space of a breath, her eyes slid open. It took a few moments for her gaze to focus.</p>
<p>“Welcome back, beautiful. Feel any better?”</p>
<p>She exhaled, not quite a sigh. “A bit. Thank you. Guess it’s time for round two with the monsters under the bunk.” Running a hand through her hair, she stood and turned to leave.</p>
<p>“Hey. Come here.” The words were out of his mouth before he realised he’d spoken.</p>
<p>It was easier to pretend until it wasn’t.</p>
<p>Velire did, curious but without hesitation. That guarded, prickly spot behind his breastbone ached at seeing such trust on display, and Carth could only hope he would always be worthy of it. When she reached his side, he grabbed her hand and tugged her down onto his lap. Surprise scrawled across her face, but she let him pull her down, and they took a moment to find an arrangement that would work. Velire ended up curled on her side, her head tucked under his chin, while he leaned back to prop his feet on the edge of the console, careful not to rest his heels on any of the controls. One of his hands came to rest on her hip, tracing circles with his thumb until the last of her tension melted away in a long, slow exhale.</p>
<p>The heat of her body bled into his. Not cold at all like he’d feared—Korriban hadn’t taken that from her, at least. The sudden, solid weight of her, the feel of her ribs pressing against his, was mesmerising. She smelled of the floral soap she’d bought on Dantooine and something softly feminine—and underneath that, the faint, lingering tang of fear-sweat.</p>
<p>Carth had believed he’d never again know the warmth of another body curled against his. For four years, he’d had nothing but the cold certainty of the stars and the knowledge that Saul was out there among them.</p>
<p>Now, things were different, and he didn’t quite know what to think anymore.</p>
<p>Velire rested one palm on his chest with a little contented sigh. Even as she settled, a tiny instinct in the back of his mind catalogued all the ways it wasn’t quite right: she was just a little too tall to fit neatly against him, her frame too lean and bound with wiry muscle, the distinct absence of wild waves of hair that tickled his chin—</p>
<p>Even as he thought it, shame burned through him. It was beyond unfair to compare Velire and Morgana.</p>
<p>Carth tightened his hold on Velire, pressing his lips to her hair. Later. He’d figure all that out later. For now, he’d relish the solid weight of her in his arms, until reality conspired to drive them apart.</p>
<p>And it would. In the quiet, he could feel the looming weight of their mission, as much dread as it was duty. He couldn’t shake the feeling that their mission would go sideways sooner rather than later. A cold apprehension, all icy fangs like a rancor’s maw, gnawed at him as he wondered what would happen to Velire when it did. If nothing else, Korriban had given him a new, terrible appreciation for the tortures Sith could inflict on a Jedi—and how narrow a path the Jedi walked. Always at risk of tumbling off, one way or another.</p>
<p>“I can hear the gears turning from here, flyboy.” Velire traced circles over his breastbone with one finger. “Credit for your thoughts?”</p>
<p>No matter how light or idle, her touch trailed heat through his jacket. It was entirely too distracting. Carth captured her hand with his own, smoothing his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m, uh, concerned about you. I’ve been keeping these thoughts to myself, mostly, but I think it’s time I said something.”</p>
<p>“Me?” Velire repeated. “How did you plot that course?”</p>
<p>“For starters, you haven’t called me a single name since you boarded. It’s unsettling.”</p>
<p>“Nerf herder.”</p>
<p>Carth chuckled once, but his amusement faded all too quickly. “I’m, ah, worried about what might happen to you. You have so much courage and strength in you, yet somehow, I have no trouble imagining it differently. Like the flip side of a credit chip.”</p>
<p>“Carth, I just made it through Korriban in one piece.”</p>
<p>“I know, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that we didn’t lose you in the academy, one way or another. But it’s not just you—it’s Bastila and Juhani, too. They’re so intense. When you have that much power, the stakes are higher.” If nothing else, their mission was teaching him that the dark side was more than a fancy name for banal evils. “I can only imagine the kind of conflict that goes on inside you.”</p>
<p>Velire looked away. “Carth…”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to see you hurt. Any of you.”</p>
<p>Maybe it was fatigue, or maybe it was vulnerability, but he could see her expression shift as she mulled over his words. Concern. Gratitude. Something darker, nameless. Finally, she said, “I sure hope you don’t sit Bastila on your lap like this.”</p>
<p>“What? Of course not!”</p>
<p>Velire burst out laughing, the sound breaking through the cockpit’s sombre quiet. “You should have seen your face, Onasi.”</p>
<p>Carth scowled. “Dammit, woman. The day Bastila overhears you is the day you die.”</p>
<p>She shot him a look so dastardly it could’ve given a Sith Lord pause. “Worth it. Scatter my ashes on Deralia.”</p>
<p>Funny how the sound of her laughter, even at his expense, could be so reassuring—although Carth found himself shying away from the thought of any funerals. “If… if I’m going to live past Saul, then I need you to, as well. This mission is far from over, and it’s only getting tougher from here. I don’t know why, but I think something terrible is waiting for you.”</p>
<p>“You mean besides Malak, the Star Forge, and the entirety of the Sith fleet?”</p>
<p>Carth tamped down a flare of irritation. “Can you be serious about this for two seconds?”</p>
<p>Velire leaned back to look him in the eye. His feet dropped to the ground to keep their balance as her hip dug into his kidney. Her eyes glimmered, at once shadowed and overbright, and he couldn’t decipher the darkness in them. “Oh, I am serious. The fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance.” Finally, she looked away, freeing him from the prison of her gaze. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I don’t know why I was chosen to be a part of this, but the only way to the Star Forge is through Malak. And I can’t slow down, I can’t falter, or else the Republic could fall. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other until it’s over.”</p>
<p>Carth’s hands ran down her sides, feeling the subtle curves of her waist, hoping to smooth away the resurgent tension. He considered and discarded several responses before deciding to take a gamble. “And make wisecracks.”</p>
<p>It worked. Velire smiled, little more than a wry twist of her mouth. Some of the stiffness left her, although her eyes remained hooded. “Don’t begrudge me my coping mechanisms.”</p>
<p>He’d spooked her, he realised. And what wasn’t there to be spooked by when she was a barely-trained Padawan assigned a nigh impossible mission? A sudden, fierce resentment toward the Council clawed its way up his throat, even as a little voice in the back of his mind muttered that they wouldn’t have <em>this </em>if she’d stayed on Dantooine.</p>
<p>“Hey. Hey.” Carth gently squeezed her waist, but felt her start, her fingers flexing in his jacket. So he let his palms drift down the less-sensitive length of her arms to her slender wrists, marvelling at how such delicate hands could hold so much power, whether it was channelling the Force or wielding lightsabers with a lethal grace. “Whatever lies ahead, you don’t have to face it alone.”</p>
<p>A sharp exhale betrayed her surprise; her mouth twisted in an apprehensive smile. “You know, in a way that’s scarier. I don’t know how you and I got so tangled up, and I—” She broke off, gaze dropping.</p>
<p>Carth reached up to brush his thumb across her cheek, smoothing a stray lock of hair out of her face. He wasn’t quite sure what she saw in a tired old soldier like him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to question her taste. Much. “I don’t know, either, but I— I don’t regret it. I hope you don’t, either.”</p>
<p>Velire’s smile softened to something real. Something just for him. “I don’t.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad.” He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and he felt more than heard her breath catch.</p>
<p>Haloed by silver-blue starlight, her shadowed eyes glimmered with a heat he could feel in his chest. Her gaze darted to his mouth.</p>
<p>Carth wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but they drifted closer, pulled together by an immutable force. He felt her breath on his lips, and then he closed the last centimetres between them.</p>
<p>Just like gravity. Like every star falling into place.</p>
<p>Her mouth was warm and welcoming, sweetened by the lingering taste of her tarine tea. He raised one hand to cup her cheek, his fingers skimming along her jaw to slide into her hair. Carth kissed her softly, angling his lips better against hers.</p>
<p>Velire was a little hesitant at first, but he felt the nervousness leave her as she settled more firmly against him. Their second kiss was as quiet and tender as the first, moments sliding by uninterrupted like the stars streaking by the viewport. But then Velire made a soft noise and shifted her weight, her palms roaming over his chest.</p>
<p>A rush of heat coursed through him, star-hot and star-bright, as any remaining space between them vanished. Carth’s hand tightened in her hair while his other arm snaked around her waist, keeping her right where he wanted her.</p>
<p>Velire gasped against his mouth, her hands pressing against his shoulders. “Carth—”</p>
<p>He drew back reluctantly, their rapid breaths mingling in the air. They were dangerously close to a precipice, a permanent shift in their relationship, and once they tumbled over the edge there’d be no going back. And she knew it, too.</p>
<p>Carth rested his forehead against hers, his chest full to bursting, their hearts thundering together in wild call and answer. He closed his eyes. “You are…”</p>
<p>A fine shiver ran through her. “Carth, I...”</p>
<p>He hadn’t felt anything like this in a long, long time. But even those feelings weren’t exactly the same, trapped under the pall of all the destruction and heartbreak that preceded this moment. Fear tangled up in a satisfaction he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust. Not now.</p>
<p>“Let me protect you.” The words burst from his mouth, rough, urgent. Like they’d burn under his skin if he didn’t get them out. “From yourself, from the Sith… you’ve gotta let me try.”</p>
<p>All at once, Velire’s apprehension made a comeback. “I don’t want you hurt protecting me, Carth.”</p>
<p>“It’d hurt more if I didn’t try.” He’d already lost Morgana. He couldn’t imagine losing Velire—or rather he could, all too easily, and that was the problem. “Please, Lire.”</p>
<p>Another wary moment where the galaxy condensed to the conflict warring on her face. And then, all at once, he felt the fight leave her. “All right.”</p>
<p>Relief was an understatement for what Carth felt in that moment. For the first time in four years, he was heady with the rush of sudden possibility. His fate had been fixed, but now—well. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. Okay?”</p>
<p>Velire reached up to smooth back the stray strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I’ll hold you to that.”</p>
<p>Carth couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “You better.”</p>
<p>An answering smile blossomed across her lips. Her eyes were softer than he’d ever seen them. Then they widened in alarm. “Bastila’s awake.”</p>
<p>Before Carth could respond, Velire was sliding off his lap, leaving a cold emptiness behind. She took a moment to compose herself. “If anyone asks, I was in the cargo hold running through drills.”</p>
<p>Despite himself, he looked her over with a moment of satisfaction: hair mussed, cheeks flushed, shirt rumpled. A part of him wanted to pull Velire back into his arms, Bastila be damned, but she was already rocketing towards the door, gone in a silent whirlwind.</p>
<p>Carth let out a long breath.</p>
<p>His hands stung from the sudden absence, the break in contact leaving him somehow bereft. To say nothing of the tangled emotions lurking in the back of his mind, to be prodded at a later date. For now, Carth folded his hands behind his head, linking his fingers together, and stared at the ceiling.</p>
<p>Objectively, nothing in the cockpit had changed. The <em>Ebon Hawk</em> hurtled undisturbed through hyperspace, about as small as a speck of galactic dust in the grand scheme of things. But the glow through the viewport seemed warmer, somehow, and the stars a little less lonely.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here it is, the first chapter I wrote. It was meant to be a oneshot, so if it reads any differently to the other chapters, that's why.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Consciousness returned slowly, in a gentle ebb and flow of senses. An ache resonated in the core of her being, then faded back into a blissful black. An acrid, charred stench. And underneath it all, a terrible absence—a <em>silence</em>—that sent fear bubbling to the surface of her consciousness.</p>
<p>Her body didn’t want to respond. Her neck and shoulders were stiff; a muscle spasmed in her thigh. Something groaned. Her own voice, she realised.</p>
<p>An exhale nearby. “She’s waking up.”</p>
<p>“Lire? Lire, can you hear me? C’mon, beautiful, open your eyes.”</p>
<p>There was no resisting that voice. Blinking, Velire’s vision resolved to the sterile grey roof of her force cage. If she turned her head to the side, two more cages burned in her peripheral. Pain lanced through her neck at the movement.</p>
<p>Velire stretched as best she could in the cramped space, taking stock of her aches and pains. Every muscle in her body felt stiff, her back knotted up, to say nothing of the various burns from the times she’d grazed the forcefield, including a particularly nasty wound on her left elbow where it had rested against the field while she was out.</p>
<p>But those sensations paled in comparison to the awful, maddening silence in her mind. It was as if she’d been buried alive in one of Korriban’s tombs, kilometres of cold stone severing her from all other life in the galaxy. Worse than silence, when at least there would be a ringing in her ears, an echo to distract from the haunting absence of the Force.</p>
<p>Drawing in a ragged breath, her fingers probed at the disruptor collar clamped around her neck.</p>
<p>“Don’t touch it,” Bastila cautioned. The arming light on her own collar glared a harsh red. “That device is connected to your nervous system.”</p>
<p>She was right, of course, but Velire couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away when that meant admitting defeat. “Didn’t you manage to break your way out of one?”</p>
<p>Bastila’s gaze was hooded. “A collar designed to contain slaves, not a Jedi. Besides, even if we did break through the collars, the cages remain.”</p>
<p>Fighting a curse, Velire attempted to scrape every last raw nerve together. “Is everyone all right?”</p>
<p>Carth occupied the farthest cell. She tried to look him over for injuries, but he was sitting on the floor of his cage with his knees drawn up to protect his feet from the forcefield. He seemed to be holding himself gingerly, but it was difficult to see through the haze of their shimmering cell walls. She couldn’t tell if he was angry at her for letting Saul torture him.</p>
<p>Bastila, meanwhile, made a sombre, slender silhouette. She’d already recovered enough to regain some measure of dignity, sitting cross-legged with her hands resting on her knees. Velire wondered if she was fooling herself sensing fatigue from Bastila, like an eye convinced it could see motion in the black.</p>
<p>“In one piece,” Carth supplied. Through the distortion of the forcefields, his eyes were little more than shadows set in a wash of flat colour. “You take it easy. Saul kept the torture field on even after you passed out.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Velire frowned, a flit of confusion followed by a darker thrill of suspicion. Why her, nobody smuggler-turned-Padawan, and not Saul’s wayward protégé or the Republic’s best hope of survival?</p>
<p>
  <em>Lord Malak may want to question you given the trouble you’ve caused him... and the history between you.</em>
</p>
<p>Even as the words echoed in her mind, a nauseating aversion twisted through her stomach. Later. She could ponder that later, from the safety of her bunk and possibly with a shot of juma.</p>
<p>Carth and Bastila were still watching her, and she didn’t need the Force to sense their concern. “Well, that was a waste of electricity, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>Carth huffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”</p>
<p>Staring up at the roof of her cage, Velire blew out a noisy breath. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a massage right about now.”</p>
<p>No one replied, keenly aware of the myriad of recording devices pointed in their direction, but she sensed Bastila’s reproving gaze, counselling patience and poise, while Carth stared at her with silent consternation.</p>
<p>Still, her inane remarks weren’t quite enough to reassure any of them. So Velire pulled herself upright, fighting a groan, and settled in a position similar to Bastila’s. Legs crossed, hands resting palm-up on her knees. Absent the Force, it felt little more than a childish mimicry, but going through the motions was something of a balm on her fraying nerves. She had to stay strong for her crew. Find the inner peace every Jedi was supposed to have—surely hers had not fled her so easily?</p>
<p>Her droids would come for them. She just had to be patient.</p>
<p>But serenity was a virtue easier to practice in the serene halls of Dantooine’s Enclave than when the electric hum of her cage scratched across her skin in a constant threat that her already-maligned nerves knew to fear. The sound echoed in the otherwise barren detention room.</p>
<p>Shipboard, the only meaning time still possessed came from distance travelled; with no planetary rotation to separate day from night, that left only the rigid structure of shifts. In the detention cells, not a single thing betrayed how much time had passed since their capture. The lighting remained unchanged since Velire had first woken in her cage; no guards stood watch in the room. Her fragile organic processes certainly couldn’t be relied upon to determine the time.</p>
<p>So Velire could only guess whether the backup protocols in T3-M4 and HK-47 had activated yet. Perhaps they had overwhelmed the mechanics assigned to them and even now were on their way, HK-47 stalking the deck with sadistic glee while T3-M4 compromised every shipboard system he could gain access to. Or perhaps, if the mechanics were smart, T3-M4 and HK-47 had been immediately decommissioned. Velire’s stomach curdled at the thought of her droids with their core circuits wiped, dismantled for parts while anything that couldn’t be reconstituted into the Sith war machine was tossed in a trash compactor.</p>
<p>A part of Velire tried to reach out, to find answers, but the Force did not answer her call.</p>
<p>Instead, other images spun through her mind’s eye. Carth on his knees, haloed in the sterile white light of the torture field; of her crew imprisoned, playthings for whatever sadistic guard was on duty; of HK-47 and T3-M4 on their way to the brig, only to be destroyed by Sith patrols. They were nothing more than the banal conjurations of her mind, lacking the resonance of Force-assisted sight, but unnerving all the same.</p>
<p>Velire cast about for a distraction, but there was nothing. Usually, she would match her breathing to whoever was nearby until her nerves settled, but the droning of her cell drowned out all but her own rough breaths. Master Zhar had always warned her to find serenity within herself—and she found herself unprepared for the twist of pain knifing between her ribs at the realisation that the Enclave was gone.</p>
<p>If Zhar was—well. She had to try, for his sake. Proving she’d taken his lessons to heart could be the only way for her to honour his legacy. So she stopped listening for any breathing except her own. In, hold for seven seconds. Out, hold for seven seconds. The counting gave her something to focus on, at least, as silent minutes slid away.</p>
<p>Without warning, the hum around her cut out.</p>
<p>Barely a second to comprehend the sudden absence of shimmering energy, then Carth was pulling her to her feet, gathering her in his arms. After a moment of surprised resistance, Velire carefully leaned into him, letting her hands probe for injuries. His shoulders were stiff and she caught a faint whiff of ozone; when her hands brushed down his back, she felt him flinch.</p>
<p>Without the Force, there was nothing Velire could do for his hurts except reach up to run her fingers along the nape of his neck. “I’m so sorry. If I could have done anything to stop him from hurting you like that...”</p>
<p>Carth’s gaze remained hooded. “I know. You did what you had to. Don’t doubt that.”</p>
<p>Over his shoulder, Bastila stood alone, pale and slender and almost listless under the sterile white lights.</p>
<p>Velire gave Carth a gentle squeeze, then eased past him. “Are you all right, Bastila?”</p>
<p>Bastila’s brow furrowed, her gaze shadowed as she examined Velire. Something at once grim and gentle filled the depths of her grey eyes. “By all rights, I should be asking you that.”</p>
<p>Velire considered a cocky <em>I asked first</em>, but Bastila’s expression conjured a nameless dread in the depths of her stomach. “I’ll feel better when this kriffing collar is off.”</p>
<p>Bastila’s mouth thinned. “As will I. We must move quickly when the others arrive.”</p>
<p>She had always claimed it was their bond that allowed them to read each other with uncanny accuracy, but Velire didn’t need a backdoor into Bastila’s mind to sense how tense she was—and she had good reason to be when being captured by the Sith had to be her worst nightmare.</p>
<p>Velire reached out to touch her shoulder. “We’ll be ready. Before we know it, we’ll be burning sky until we see lines.”</p>
<p>For once, Bastila didn’t resist the contact. No, she leaned into the touch, briefly closing her eyes as she drew in one breath, then another.</p>
<p>They both glanced up as the heavy lock on the cell door clunked open. Juhani’s lithe figure filled the space on the threshold. By the door panel, T3-M4 chirped a greeting, one appendage still tinkering with the lock. Her expression shifted to tight relief as her golden gaze swept over them. “There you are! Come along, quickly!”</p>
<p>Behind Juhani, Mission was looting the downed guards, tossing pieces of equipment to Jolee. Zaalbar and Canderous stood in the centre of the room, weapons ready and reeking of blaster fire, while HK-47 had evidently been banished to guard the exit.</p>
<p>Velire wasn’t prepared for the sheer giddy relief that rocked through her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Everyone all right?”</p>
<p>Canderous chuckled, the sound imbued with menace as it echoed off the bare walls. “The guards didn’t know what hit them.”</p>
<p>HK-47’s photoreceptors seemed to glow brighter than usual as he turned at the sound of Velire’s voice. “Salutation: Master, I am relieved to find you undamaged! Sith interrogation techniques are clearly less effective than I have been led to believe. Clarification: Not that I wish to see you harmed, master, merely that the Sith are renowned for their brutal methods of torture.”</p>
<p>Edging between HK-47 and an increasingly murderous-looking Carth, Velire said, “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”</p>
<p>“Sheesh, talk about dense!” Mission came to a halt a few feet away, half-reaching for Velire and Carth only to abort the gesture halfway. That didn’t stop them from reaching back to grip her arms, the closest to a hug that any of them could manage right now.</p>
<p>There was an unusual tightness around Mission’s eyes and her lekku were curled defensively around her neck. “Are you guys all right?”</p>
<p>“We’re fine,” Velire answered, and mostly meant it.</p>
<p>Carth’s voice was low, urgent. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, I promise. Just glad to see you guys in one piece. Your gear should be in there.” She pointed at an adjoining chamber in the detention block.</p>
<p>Juhani held up a hand. “First, we should remove those restraints.” Her expression tightened at the sight of their disruptor collars, one ear flicking with distaste. “Allow me.”</p>
<p>Producing the remote controls for the collars, Juhani had them deactivated in moments. As the lock disengaged, Velire welcomed the melodious swell in her being, letting it rejuvenate her. She stretched her senses to encompass all of her companions, checking they were all right, then turned her attention to Carth.</p>
<p>She reached for him, hand outstretched in question. “May I…?”</p>
<p>After a moment, Carth nodded. Velire rested her hand just below his collarbones, summoning a cool stream of power. By this point, he had enough experience with healings to hold still as she sought out every hurt to soothe away. The half-healed injuries from their capture, the lingering muscle strain from the torture field, the burns on his hands and shoulders from grazing the cell walls. She tried to stay detached, but fresh horror and guilt twisted up in her gut. All she could do was make it right as best she could.</p>
<p>At last, when there was nothing left in her ability to heal, Velire opened her eyes. “There.”</p>
<p>When Carth pulled back, every last emotion had leached out of his face, leaving only a grim resolution in his gaze. Velire knew every shade of his anger, from shallow irritation to bellowing fury. This was something else entirely.</p>
<p>Without a further word, he ducked past her to the storage facility, shoulders stiff with the burden he’d carried for four years.</p>
<p>Velire found her gaze travelling to Bastila; their eyes met, the bond singing in resonance between them. Her every fear was reflected as if Bastila’s face were a mirror—then a sudden grey silence as Bastila wrangled her emotions under control.</p>
<p>She held out a slender hand. “Come. We should move quickly. We only have so much time before we are discovered.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Suddenly aware that she was standing in only her underwear, Velire trailed after Bastila.</p>
<p>Their confiscated equipment had been meticulously organised in rows upon rows of lockers that stood like grave markers, each one cataloguing the worldly remains of the<em> Leviathan</em>’s victims. Perhaps the only remains left at all after the Sith were finished with their prey.</p>
<p>Whatever organisational system was in use, Carth recognised it. In moments he’d tracked down his personal effects, and pointed Velire and Bastila to their own gear. Velire wasn’t prepared for the rush of relief that washed through her at the sight of her belongings and wasted no time putting on some pants. She tried not to think of some ensign pawing over her clothes to document every detail, reducing the history of wear and tear to sterile observations. With the three of them lost in their own private worlds, the only sound was the rustling of fabric until Carth overbalanced, quietly swearing.</p>
<p>Velire hesitated. The taut lines of his back were closed off, but a quiet instinct warned her this could be her last chance.</p>
<p>She stretched her senses to the shining thread that connected her to Bastila. <em>Can you give us a moment?</em></p>
<p>Across the room, their eyes met. Something was buried in the depths of Bastila’s gaze, glimmering under the cool white lights. Pain, or maybe fear. Then it was gone, replaced with tight-jawed disapproval. <em>This is a mistake. A Jedi cannot—</em>you<em> cannot—afford emotional entanglements. Especially not in the coming battle.</em></p>
<p>Velire fought a shiver. Already she could detect the sour black note of Darth Malak on the edge of her senses, like the first bruised storm clouds that pulled her gaze away from the sun. <em>I just want to make sure he’s okay. Please.</em></p>
<p>Bastila’s gaze flicked from the rigid line of Carth’s back to Velire. A brief conflict played across her delicate features, then she bowed her head. <em>Very well.</em></p>
<p>Velire breathed a sigh of relief. <em>Thank you.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Do not thank me for this.</em>
</p>
<p>Gathering the remainder of her equipment, Bastila strode out of the locker room. Carth didn’t even notice her leaving, nor did he notice Velire approach.</p>
<p>She halted a few feet away. “Flyboy.”</p>
<p>Carth started as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. He glanced her way, barely pausing as he buckled his belt. “We should move out as soon as possible.”</p>
<p>“Hang on. This is important.”</p>
<p>“What, Velire?” His eyes blazed with controlled fury.</p>
<p>Something in her went still under his scrutiny. Still, she forced herself to take another half-step forward to rest a hand on his arm. His muscles radiated tension under her fingers. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“I told you, I’m fine.”</p>
<p>Even though the room was empty, Velire kept her voice soft, her words only for him. “I don’t need the Force to know that isn’t true.”</p>
<p>“Don’t.” He jerked away from her. “There isn’t time for that. I— I can’t be anything else right now.”</p>
<p>Fighting the sting of rejection, Velire kept her expression carefully neutral. “What are you planning on doing, exactly?”</p>
<p>“We get to the bridge, find the lockout codes for the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>, and I’ll finally repay Saul for what he’s done.”</p>
<p>“And if Saul isn’t in our path?”</p>
<p>Carth’s voice was low. Harsh. “He will be.”</p>
<p>Tamping down on impulsive retort—<em>maybe the Jedi should’ve trained you instead if you’re a seer</em>—Velire weaselled in between Carth and the locker, the door clicking shut behind her back. The lock behind her pressed into her spine, cold and unrelenting. Ignoring his black look, she drew in an almost even breath. “Our priority is freeing the <em>Hawk</em>. I’m not jeopardising our crew for a vendetta, and I hope you aren’t, either.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Carth’s expression shifted, equal parts worry and offence. Then his face settled back into stone. “I’m not risking anyone except myself,” he said through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>Cold dread washed down her back. “If you’re going to be a liability, then you should lead the others to the hangar bay instead—”</p>
<p>Fury twisted Carth’s expression, so sharp and sudden she felt it rush over her like a physical force. “Oh no, sister. You are not benching me. Not on this mission. I know how Saul operates, and you’ll need me to get us to the bridge.”</p>
<p>Damn him. He was right, and they both knew it.</p>
<p>Velire briefly closed her eyes as fear welled up in her like a cold black swell. She desperately tried to keep her head above the surface, hunting for the words that could avert the coming storm. “Carth…”</p>
<p>He ran his thumb along her jaw. His gaze was hooded. “I have to do this.”</p>
<p>“You yourself said there’s more than Saul that needs to be stopped. I can’t lose you to him. Please, Carth.”</p>
<p>Several emotions chased themselves across his face, too fast for her to decipher. He shifted his weight, and Velire was suddenly aware of the lack of space between them as her fingers reflexively dug into his shoulders. A wild heat bled between them, but she barely felt it when her entire universe narrowed to his face.</p>
<p>Carth drew back, and a wash of dread ran through Velire when she met his burning eyes. “No matter what… Saul dies today.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s boarding ramp closed, Carth’s durasteel grip on Velire loosened. He shoved her away and bolted for the cockpit. The world spun in a nauseating lurch, her every battered nerve screaming, grey tendrils leaching into her vision. Her knees hit the deck with a thump, muted under the dull roar in her ears.</p><p>The burning slash across her collarbones shrieked in agony, joined by a chorus of other saber wounds from where Malak had toyed with her. And quieter but no less painful, a blaster burn on her ribs from a close call on the bridge when she’d broken rank to keep that commando from shooting Carth—</p><p>Carth.</p><p>Velire fought a sob.</p><p>Somewhere in her peripheral, she sensed more than heard exclamations of shock and the sharp crack of footfalls racing for the cockpit. Slowly, the deck plates beneath her swam into focus. Movement nearby, then something landed beside her. Blue hands pulled her sideways into a hug.</p><p>Enough consciousness remained for horror to crawl up Velire’s throat, choking her with spindly, overlong fingers.</p><p><em>Not her. Please not her</em>.</p><p>Squeezing her eyes shut, Velire turned her head away. “You… you need to buckle in.”</p><p>Mission only tightened her grip. “Nuh-uh. I’m not leaving you like this.”</p><p>If Velire had any strength left, she would have pulled away. Every sense was stretched beyond her capacity, leaving her with only muddy impressions. Jolee’s rumbling voice, delivering quick orders. Others moving to obey. Another presence beside her—Juhani, who likewise ignored her begging that they get themselves to safety as the <em>Hawk</em> lurched.</p><p>Fresh nausea twisted through her, and she felt her knees lose purchase on the floor. A swell of the Force from Juhani kept the three of them from tumbling across the hold. Cradled as she was, Velire wanted nothing more than to break free.</p><p><em>Don’t you know what I am?</em> </p><p>But her grip on consciousness became all the more tenuous, and as the deck blurred again, she sought out the thread that tethered her to Bastila. It strained, ached, resonating with exhausted desperation—</p><p>And as the hyperdrive rumbled through her knees, her grip on the bond snapped, like an elastic band stretched to breaking.</p><p>The pain of it left her stunned. Velire barely registered a hand settle on her head, followed by a cool relief washing through her limbs. Jolee. “Come now, let’s get her to medbay.”</p><p>Even with both Mission and Juhani taking her weight, her legs refused to cooperate. The world shifted strangely around her, then the next thing she knew, she was being lowered onto crisp sheets. The cold smell of astringent stung her nose. </p><p>Warmth as Mission took her hand. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Jolee will get you patched up in no time, all right?”</p><p>Velire could only close her eyes.</p><p>Soft sounds swam through her ears. Jolee herding Mission and Juhani from the medbay, followed by the door hissing shut. He made a low noise, not unsympathetic, as he inspected her injuries. “Here now, let’s do something about these—”</p><p>As he reached out, Velire’s hand latched around his wrist. Her entire universe pinpointed to the Force-damned empathy in his eyes. “Did you know?”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>Her suddenly-nerveless hand slithered down to thump on the bed. She turned her head away.</p><p>A sigh. “There’ll be time to put all to rights later. For now, my dear, you need healing.” </p><p>Jolee rested one hand on her collarbones, above the screaming burn, and the other on her forehead. A wave of energy flowed through her, carrying her away on gentle currents. Velire sank into the cool embrace of oblivion.</p><p>—</p><p>She drifted. The void was cold, welcoming, smothering. A lightless realm without beginning or end, so vast it was beyond any horizon. Something lingered at the very edges of her being, like the faintest sunbeams filtering through a deep ocean. Something that every instinct knew to shy away from. So she drifted in blissful silence.</p><p>A disturbance echoed through the abyss, like ripples from a stone hurled into still waters. She couldn’t steer away from the sensations that battered her: shock, betrayal, accusation. Pain.</p><p>With no body and no voice, she couldn’t gasp. Couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t do anything except let the echoes wash over her, calling out to that which lurked at the fringes of her existence. Then they too slipped away, and she sank back into the black.</p><p>—</p><p>Consciousness returned in the space between one breath and the next. Velire lay still, letting the dregs of fatigue drain away like a receding tide. The sheets were rough with grime, the blanket scratchy. Finally, she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. It took her tortured neurons precious seconds to place where she was. </p><p>Medbay. She was in the <em>Hawk’</em>s medbay. The tiny room was dim, lit only by the soft lights that ran along the floor during the shipboard night cycle. Every part of her ached and she couldn’t remember why.</p><p>Velire stretched—first her legs, rolling her ankles, then her arms and back—hoping her injuries would jog her memory. But the healing trance had run its course, leaving her body if not renewed, then at least serviceable. Nothing but unseen scabs where her wounds should have been and a phantom pain that lingered in her limbs.</p><p>Rolling onto her side, Velire tried to settle only for malaise to snare her. She let her gaze drift around the room, hunting for any clues that would explain her current state.</p><p>That was when she noticed the door was locked.</p><p>At once, reality descended. Malak’s metallic laughter ringing in her ears. Bastila coiling defensively, her grey gaze brimming with guilt. A terrible feeling of <em>rightness</em> that curdled Velire’s stomach.</p><p>Stricken, she squeezed her eyes shut. </p><p>
  <em>It can’t be true. It can’t be. I can’t be...</em>
</p><p>Filled with sudden desperation, Velire reached for the bond. But it was quiet, hollow, stretched so thin she could scarcely sense it. She called, but there was no answer. </p><p>The silence was a death knell for both of them.</p><p>—</p><p>Time ceased to exist. Blood roared in her ears, drowning out everything except her own thoughts. </p><p>A parade of images, overbright with violence, marched across her mind’s eye in an unending assault. A blank ceiling—cold, impersonal, reflecting the malignant buzzing light of the torture cages. A rush through grey corridors and silver soldiers, the monotony broken by streaks of carbon black and lush crimson. The crisp outline of an admiral’s uniform against the expanse of space, black on black, then that same silhouette crumpling in dignified silence. If she squinted, she could just see his lips moving. </p><p>And then another viewport, another night cycle of soft starlight and softer words. <em>Let me protect you. From yourself, from the Sith…</em></p><p>Velire fought a sudden, half-mad laugh. She knew she should have told him no.</p><p>—</p><p>Despite the security camera tucked away near the ceiling, it was the red light of the engaged lock that watched her, as jealous as a lover. </p><p>It made sense. How could any of them know that the Dark Lord wouldn’t arise to slay them all in their sleep? How could <em>she</em> know?</p><p>Even as Velire told herself this, the betrayal lingered, aching like a black bruise. The implicit threat triggered some quiet instinct inside her, and she forced her weary body upright. The world spun and danced with stars, begging her to whirl with them. She almost pitched forward onto the floor, barely managing to rock back before the point of no return. Running a hand over her face, she pressed her fingers to the pulsing ache above her left eyebrow.</p><p>Her feet made no sound as she eased upright. Someone had stripped her down to her underlayers and cleaned the worst of the sweat and grime from her skin. A courtesy she hadn’t expected or earned. Her gear had been piled in a corner: blue and grey robes ready to be whisked away for cleaning, boots standing together with their heels pressed against the wall. And, impossibly, her lightsabers sat quietly on the counter above.</p><p>Velire reached out. Hesitated. Her fingers curled in the cool climate-controlled air, centimetres away. If she touched them, that would make them as real as her, but there was no way they could be. It was beyond foolish to lock a predator in a cage without first blunting her claws. </p><p>Turning on her heel, Velire welcomed the fresh swirl of stars as she staggered to the door.</p><p>Coming to a halt, she cautiously allowed her senses to unfurl, caught between fear of what she would find and fear of not knowing. By now every life force aboard was as familiar as her own heartbeat: the cool precision of the droids, Juhani’s subdued yet fierce-burning flame, Mission’s ever-bright spark and Zaalbar’s immutable presence, the wizened quiet of Jolee, Canderous’s permacrete resolve. Most were congregated in the dorms, unmoving, except for the furious flicker of one particular life force in the cockpit.</p><p>Her mouth tasted of ash.</p><p>Velire pressed her forehead to the door and waited. Five minutes, ten, fifteen. Nobody moved, settled in a mid-shift stasis.</p><p>To her shock, the lock gave way without a fight. The universe again veered off its axis, having to accommodate a new truth that she wasn’t certain she should be grateful for. The door had been programmed to prevent anyone from entering, not keep her from slithering into the welcoming black maw of the closest corridor.</p><p>Jolee’s work, surely. No one else would care enough to shield her—Force only knew who <em>didn’t</em> want her dead at this point.</p><p>Velire sensed movement in the cockpit and every nerve in her body came alive with panic. Her heartbeat pulsed under her skin, in her wrists, her neck, her ears. Her skin was too tight, at once flushed and prickling with goosebumps. </p><p>The battery beckoned, offering the next best escape after the airlock, and she clambered down the ladder into the ventral turret. It was dingy, no lights but for the sedate glow of the console and the ephemeral blue pulse of hyperspace through the viewport.</p><p>Settling into the gunner’s chair, Velire hunted for the controls to seal the hatch. Dynamic-class freighters were just large enough to qualify for batteries that could be sealed off to prevent a boarding party from easily taking out the gunners. The panels in front of her showed readouts of the ship’s trajectory and hazard map, synced with output from the cockpit. The same numbers <em>he </em>would be monitoring. </p><p>It was all too easy to picture him lit in the glow of the consoles, no doubt aching from lingering bruises and betrayals but unwilling to shirk his duty. He would watch over the console like a Drayberian hawk, those stray strands of hair falling across his forehead, begging her to smooth them back. He would be scowling, intent, like the early days when her mere presence could put his shoulders up around his ears—</p><p>No. Not like the early days at all.</p><p>According to the readouts, the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> was projected to drop out of hyperspace in forty-nine hours, twelve minutes. Velire’s hand curled into a fist, each knuckle stark white, tendons rising in sharp relief.</p><p>She lifted her hands in front of her face, turning them this way and that, curling her fingers. Watching the play of blue-silver and black shift over her skin.</p><p>These hands had known blood. More than she could fathom.</p><p>Velire pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until a hot silver swirl of stars overwhelmed her vision. She felt stretched in all directions, broken into pieces and scattered to the uncertain mercy of solar winds. A tremble began somewhere deep in her chest before radiating outward to each limb. </p><p>Curling her knees up to her chest, she gave in to the shaking.</p><p>—</p><p>The turret was as much a prison of her own making as it was a sanctuary. Leaving risked encountering any of the others, so Velire remained in place. If she stayed silent, contained, then maybe everyone would pretend she wasn’t there. The air was cool despite the constrained space—not uncomfortably so, merely bereft of warmth. Despite the chair being well-padded to protect the gunner during evasive maneuvers, pins and needles swamped her legs.</p><p>Nothing could distract her from the console readouts. A perfect synchronicity of course and trajectory, potential targets flagged by proximity sensors. The cockpit’s readouts would likewise show the pilot critical output from the battery, such as the fact the ventral turret was occupied. That innocuous, maddening flare of scrolling blue numbers taunted her. Taunted them both.</p><p>Thirty-one hours, fifty-four minutes.</p><p>There was no way to shut off the display. Not without breaking something. Velire turned her head away once, twice, and yet her gaze was always drawn back to the console and the silent comm panel beside it.</p><p>All it would take was a single finger on the call button, and she would hear his voice again.</p><p>She couldn’t picture anything worse, and yet her fingers still twitched with the urge. </p><p>Velire slipped into a doze, the low-energy cousin of meditation, letting the hours slide by without resistance. She was just shifting more comfortably in the chair when the comm crackled. A wrenching moment where her every nerve lit up, caught on the blade’s edge between anticipation and fear—</p><p>“Hey, Velire.” Mission. </p><p>She wasn’t prepared for the pain that knifed through her chest. Whether it was relief or disappointment, she couldn’t fathom.</p><p>“I know you’ve gotta be upset, but I want you to know I’m here for you, okay? Everyone is. Well, except for Carth, but he just needs time to wrap his head around everything, you know?”</p><p>Velire froze. It wasn’t at all comforting to know the others weren’t angry—no, a sick sense of betrayal settled in her chest. How could they let this go so easily? How could they look at her and not see a monster?</p><p>Stomach churning, Velire muted the feed. Guilt hounded her immediately, and she didn’t feel any better for having done it, but Mission’s words echoed in the enclosed space, bouncing off the panels, the walls, the viewport. There wasn’t enough room for them all.</p><p>Meditation was her only escape, but it was difficult to settle with her mind so crowded. Her hands ached for the crystal Juhani had given her, for its eternal soothing coolness, but it was safely tucked away in her personal footlocker. </p><p>Velire clenched her jaw. No, that gift had been given to someone who didn’t exist. She wasn’t Deralian. She wasn’t a former smuggler. Damiel, Sedaya, and the <em>Silent Venture</em> weren’t real. None of it was real, not even her <em>name</em>.</p><p>Velire closed her eyes, listening to her breaths echo through the turret. Her only companions were the distant streaking stars which asked for nothing but gave nothing.</p><p>—</p><p>Velire emerged from meditation as the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> dropped out of hyperspace. Returning to full awareness after hours of blissful silence, separated from her own body, was something of a disappointment, if she was honest.</p><p>Beyond the viewport, the stars ceased to blur, once more stationary in the black. Manaan hung suspended in the expanse of space, a clear azure orb half-shadowed in its orbit around the brilliant-burning Pyrshak. A multitude of ships flickered on the sensors—a half-dozen Republic cruisers shining red and silver, a handful of miscellaneous trader frigates, and on the far side of the planet, the grim wraithlike silhouettes of Sith vessels.</p><p>Chest tight, Velire leaned forward in her seat, letting her feet thump to the ground.</p><p>The <em>Ebon</em> <em>Hawk</em> sailed into designated Republic space unimpeded, but Velire kept the turret pointed at the Sith flotilla painted red on her scanners. No doubt their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed, but there was nothing to be done. Malak was in all likelihood too busy with Bastila to care where the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> limped to. Besides, he knew his old master was coming for him. He only had to wait.</p><p>Stomach curdling, Velire rose to her feet. A muscle in her thigh, unused to sudden movement, seized up. As the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> settled in the landing queue, she crawled out of the turret and swiped a ration bar from the cargo hold before darting to the refresher. Securely alone in a room with a locking door, she leaned back against the door with closed eyes until her heart stopped thundering in her chest. Her stomach was flat and empty, long past hunger, but she forced herself to choke down the bar anyway. It didn’t matter, but saving Bastila did matter—and the only way to do that was through the final Star Map. Which meant acting the part of a presentable, combat-ready Jedi.</p><p>She only had to maintain the facade long enough to find the Star Forge. Somehow, there was no comfort in the thought.</p><p>Without so much as glancing at the mirror, Velire stripped out of her clothes to step into the shower. A tepid stream of water cascaded over her head and shoulders. She stood there, head bowed, hands braced against the wall until her shivers turned to chest-deep shudders.</p><p>With no change of clothes, Velire had no choice but to pull her soiled garments back on. Then and only then did she dare to face the mirror. She didn’t like what she saw. A silent spectre of a woman, pale but for the shadows smeared under her eyes. She gripped the sides of the sink until her knuckles turned white. Tension was anathema to meditation, but she still drew in breath after breath, narrowing her focus to the blood shifting under her skin.</p><p>When she felt if not serene, then at least pleasantly hollow, she looked up again to meet her reflection. Vacant hazel eyes watched her back.</p><p><em>Revan’s</em> eyes.</p><p>She doubled over as she retched.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saul was dead and Carth felt nothing. He barely noticed the pilot’s seat beneath him, moored by only the thinnest thread of reality. His head was on fire, stomach churning and mouth dry. Something felt wrong in his chest. A burning strain lingered in his limbs, and thanks to several rounds with a torture field, he was still wracked by an occasional twitch in his muscles. These were the only reminders that he was still breathing, whether he liked it or not. But past the heavy exhaustion clinging to his bones, he could already feel the force of his failure bearing down on him with all the gravity of a planet. Any chance for revenge had died with Saul.</p><p>Worse, Saul had destroyed any hope of a future with—</p><p>Carth tasted last night’s dinner as fresh nausea wrung his gut. In comparison, the numb cold was, if not welcome, then at least familiar. Better than letting himself bleed out again. Funny, he hadn’t thought he still had anything left to lose.</p><p>The console lights blurred into streaks of searing colour—pale blue and violent red and harsh white. Carth scrubbed a hand over his face, hoping to alleviate the eye strain. No point trying to sleep, and not just because every nerve was singing with the lingering dregs of adrenaline. He didn’t especially want to come face-to-face with anyone else on the ship when impossibly, maddeningly, none of them were concerned about the Council’s little scheme. Nor were they concerned about who’d been in their midst the entire time.</p><p>Carth felt more alone than he had since he first climbed the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s boarding ramp a lifetime ago.</p><p>So he stayed put, hunched over the controls no matter the catalogue of aches and pains that demanded his attention. He did his best to ignore the persistent urge to turn his head, to look at the readout that indicated the ventral turret was occupied. Instead, he focused all his attention on the numbers in front of him until his eyes swam, even if that detached concentration led him to almost miss their window as he dropped the <em>Hawk </em>out of hyperspace. One of the sloppiest jumps he’d clocked since his Academy days, but at that moment it was hard to muster the appropriate embarrassment.</p><p>Looking out the viewport, to the cold black of hard vacuum, gave him a strange, weightless feeling he didn’t often get anymore—of being small, insignificant. Not really belonging. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. Some tether had been cut, disconnecting him from a fundamental part of himself. He’d call it denial, except he understood to the core of his being that Saul was dead. Saul was dead, and Carth was left with nothing.</p><p>He’d always expected to die with Saul. To sacrifice everything if that’s what it took to finish it. Maybe he’d even anticipated the weightlessness when he was finally free. But now, without even the old, familiar hatred, he felt bereft.</p><p>Carth closed his eyes. He could still feel the weight of his blaster in his hand, the worn grip aligning with the calluses on his palm, the pressure of it as he pressed the barrel to Saul’s temple. A part of him regretted that he hadn’t ignored both of the Force-damned Jedi and put a blaster bolt in Saul’s head while he still had the chance, even if it wouldn’t have changed a fracking thing. But Saul had already started coughing. Dying with a little satisfied smile on his face. And with a final, rattling breath, Saul’s grip on Carth’s wrist had gone slack.</p><p>In that moment, the enormity of it had nearly overcome him. He’d wanted nothing more to shake Saul, to demand answers, to satisfy the murderous impulse buzzing through his brain no matter the futility of it.</p><p>
  <em>Damn you, Saul. Damn you.</em>
</p><p>All the pieces that had never lined up now snapped into place with hideous clarity. The Jedi pulling rank over the <em>Endar Spire</em>’s captain to bring aboard a recently conscripted smuggler with some asinine excuse involving ‘redemption’—a smuggler who couldn’t fire a blaster to save her life, with a perfect pazaak face and terrible pazaak hand, and just so happened to have a natural mastery of the Force. Hell, that damn computer on Kashyyyk should’ve been a dead giveaway.</p><p>How could he have been so blind?</p><p>Carth rubbed his forehead with one hand, galled. Hadn’t he known from the start that something wasn’t right about her? About the whole damn mission? Except he’d let himself grow complacent and forget the most important lesson Saul ever taught him.</p><p>He should’ve known better than to hope. A bitter laugh curled in his throat. Apparently, it was too much to expect that the grand cosmos wouldn’t screw him over the moment he let his guard down.</p><p>Carth was aware, distantly, that his hands were clenched into fists, so tightly his bones felt like they were grinding together. All the impotent rage seething under his skin had no outlet, leaving him simultaneously on edge and exhausted. His mouth was thick with the taste of bitter ash and crisp ozone. Maybe he wasn’t standing on a dying planet, but his world was burning again all the same.</p><p>Carth tried to draw in one tight breath, two, but it didn’t help. Nothing could. It was all a lie, and he’d fallen for it like a sucker. Too lonely to listen to good sense and years of hard-won instinct. Now there was no escaping the sick realisation crawling through him that the woman he’d thought he shared something with was none other than the Dark Lord. He’d sworn to protect a monster.</p><p>
  <em>You sure know how to pick them, Onasi.</em>
</p><p>The dead taste of bile stuck in the back of his throat. It was almost beyond comprehension. All this time spent trying to honour Morgana’s memory, and he got himself tangled up with none other than Darth Revan.</p><p>The first sting in his chest was all the warning he got before the long-familiar guilt reared its ugly head. Carth had thought he’d learned everything of it after four years alone in bed staring at the ceiling every night, crushed beneath the weight of every memory and every loss. But the fresh acidic bite was stronger than he remembered as it ate him from the inside out. Even now, he couldn’t commit to putting his wife first for once in his life.</p><p>His vision blurred, and he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He should’ve stayed focused on his purpose. Shouldn’t have let himself be distracted by a life he should never have again.</p><p>At this point, it was a futile effort to try to hold an image of her in his mind, but he tried anyway. Most of their holos had burned with their home, and over the intervening years he’d lost the few that had remained thanks to one emergency evacuation after another. He could remember the way her light brown curls framed her face. The way they fit against each other with her head neatly tucked under his chin. The way she would forget to take breaks whenever she sat down in front of a viewscreen, squinting at the display until her shoulders hunched around her ears.</p><p>And of course the clearest memory of all, the only one he never wanted to remember: the stench of cooking flesh, burnt hands scrabbling to grip his arms, blood smeared across his uniform, those same hands going slack—</p><p>He swallowed harshly, desperate to dispel the images. <em>I’m sorry, Ana. I shouldn't have tried to forget.</em></p><p>A soft knock almost had him shooting from his seat. Mission stood on the threshold, knuckles raised to the door frame. “Thought you might want a hand in the cockpit, since…”</p><p>Pushing down all other thoughts—a petty offence that he was more than capable of flying solo, the unspoken reason why neither of his usual co-pilots were here—Carth nodded his thanks. “Appreciate it, Mission.”</p><p>He wouldn’t have said that the hush that fell in the cockpit was comfortable, but it didn’t make his every nerve come alive with dread, either. He tried to focus on the generosity of her gesture. Or better yet, focus on what he was supposed to be doing. Both the Republic and Sith had small flotillas in-system, mainly composed of transports and their escorts. A sullen, leaden pain lingered in his limbs, and when he leaned over the controls, ready for evasive maneuvers if the Sith decided to finish what the <em>Leviathan </em>started, a sharp twinge ran through his ribs. Carth sucked in a sharp breath.</p><p>Mission was peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. The light from the console displays threw odd shadows across her face as her expression wavered. “Did you get checked over after we escaped? I’ve got a medkit if you need it.”</p><p>The medbay had been sealed off in the immediate aftermath, and even when <em>she’d</em> slunk away to lurk elsewhere, Carth didn’t particularly want to be poked and prodded by Jolee. Especially not when the old man was as much a liar as any other Jedi.</p><p>“Thanks, but I’m fine.”</p><p>She eyed him incredulously, but said, “Have it your way.” Settling more firmly in her chair, she took stock of the <em>Hawk</em>’s readouts, panel by panel, to familiarise herself with their current course. Under any other circumstances, Carth would have been pleased that she’d done so of her own accord. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pause, one hand hovering over a readout panel, but he still wasn’t prepared when she blurted, “Wait, is Lire <em>still </em>in the battery?”</p><p>Carth found himself grinding his jaw so hard his teeth were in danger of cracking. Better that than saying something Mission would never forgive him for.</p><p>“Aren’t you gonna—” she cut herself off, looking down. “No, forget it.”</p><p>All of a sudden, he remembered why he’d kept to the cockpit since the <em>Leviathan</em>. Irritation pulsed through him, matching the pounding in his temples. “Let’s.”</p><p>As Mission reached out to skim through the engine output, the gesture was stilted, hesitant. It wasn’t like her at all—nor was hesitating to speak her mind—and that made him look twice. Her expression was tight, strained, while her headtails hung limp around her neck.</p><p>Summoning the tatters of his willpower, Carth forced himself to ask, “Are you all right, kid?”</p><p>The first giveaway that she wasn’t was that she didn’t react to being called a kid. “I don’t know. It’s all... it’s been a lot, you know? First the Sith catch us, then we lose Bastila, and Jolee says Malak will try to turn her to the dark side…”</p><p>Carth struggled to find something to say, to reassure her, but he knew Jolee wasn’t wrong. Worse, all he could think of was how Bastila had looked him in the eye every day and <em>lied</em>. She’d brought a leashed Sith Lord onto the <em>Endar Spire</em> with no precautions and no oversight, content to risk the lives of everyone around her.</p><p>In his mind’s eye, he could relive the moment he’d jerked away from Saul’s cooling body, shoving to his feet and ready to swing. Velire— <em>she </em>had been shocked by the force of his fury. Bastila, however, had understood. She’d positioned herself between him and Revan, one hand locked around Revan’s wrist like a manacle, watching him with a tight, wary expression. He’d caught the faintest glimmer of fear before it disappeared in her opaque grey eyes.</p><p>That was the moment he understood that she’d known. She’d known the entire time.</p><p>But Mission wasn’t finished, adding, “Then we found out…” She glanced in his direction, and whatever she saw made her mouth snap shut.</p><p>Carth’s hands curled into white-knuckled fists on the console, nails digging crescents of pain into his palms. “Yeah.”</p><p>He directed the <em>Hawk </em>to what had evidently been designated Republic space, but not even the presence of Republic forces could calm his nerves. He recognised the cruiser <em>Parlous</em>, and a part of him wanted to hail the vessel. Report in. Return to the only place he’d ever belonged, for better or worse.</p><p>Mission was peering at him again. Her scrutiny made the back of his neck itch. “Are… are you okay, Carth?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>She shot him a sceptical look. “Look, if you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to. But you don’t have to pretend you’re all right when you’re not.”</p><p>Carth sucked in a ragged breath, attempting to collect himself. He desperately reminded himself that she only wanted to help, even if he would never again let anyone else prod the deepest parts of him. As a distraction, he checked their position in the landing queue. Still half a standard hour, at least. When he was steady enough to answer, he couldn’t help his curt tone. “I appreciate the thought, Mission, but can we drop it?”</p><p>“Sure. But I want you to know that if you wanna talk, I’m here, you know?”</p><p>The tightness in his ribs loosened just an inch, and for a moment he could breathe again. “Thanks, Mission.”</p><p>At least she could be relied on to let a topic go. Quiet descended in the cockpit, broken only by the soft chirp of alerts and his short directions to Mission once they finally received clearance to land. Painfully aware of his own exhaustion and Missin’s relative inexperience, he kept a tight focus on the task at hand, double-checking all the numbers—and he couldn’t help but notice the ventral turret had been vacated. Ignoring the twinge in his gut, he instead redirected his attention to the pristine monotone of Ahto City growing larger in the viewport with every passing moment.</p><p>After securing landing coordinates from the local traffic control, Carth settled the <em>Hawk </em>in their assigned hangar bay. It certainly wasn’t his smoothest landing, but a part of him that he hadn’t realised was tense finally loosened. Finally, he could believe they’d managed to escape the <em>Leviathan</em>.</p><p>Mission exhaled heavily, not quite a sigh, and rested her chin on her knees. “Carth… what are we going to do?”</p><p>“I wish I knew, Mission.” The words slipped out before he thought about it. Immediately the officer side of him marched out to berate him for showing weakness when he should be finding something to keep morale from entering a tailspin. “Stop Malak. Make Bastila’s sacrifice worth something. That’s all we can do right now.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right. I just have a bad feeling about this, you know?”</p><p>“Me too. We’re in more danger now than ever with a Dark Lord on board. If it were up to me…”</p><p>Mission’s eyes narrowed, her eyes glittering dangerously. Her voice lashed across the centre console. “What? What would you do if it were up to you?”</p><p>“She should be, at minimum, under guard.” If Carth could stand to face her, he’d do it himself. If she wasn’t regrettably mission-critical, he’d be tempted to contemplate more. His superiors would no doubt be <em>very </em>interested to learn what the Jedi had been up to over the last year. “If we didn’t need that vision—memory, or whatever it is—then it’d sure as hell be safer for all of us if she wore a neural collar.”</p><p>Mission sucked in an aghast breath. “Guards and restraints? Are you for real? After everything Lire’s done for us, you’d throw her under a speeder just like that?”</p><p>Carth bristled. “It’s not like—”</p><p>But despite everything, he couldn’t shake a shred of discomfort. Memories of their capture on Tatooine whispered through the back of his mind: her dead weight against his back, her flailing panic as she’d regained consciousness, her hands in his as they gripped each other for reassurance.</p><p>His stomach twisted. Even if it was more than justified now, it still felt dirty, somehow. Especially after he’d made a promise to—</p><p><em>That </em>was a line of thought he ruthlessly shut down. Finally, Carth settled on, “That’s not her name.”</p><p>Mission’s shoulders were high and tight. “I get that this is all a big shock, but that isn’t a Sith Lord who’s been crying her eyes out in the turret. You have to see that. She isn’t Revan anymore, she’s Velire!”</p><p>He couldn’t help but snap, “And how do you know she was crying?”</p><p>She shot him a look that clearly asked if his brain had leaked out through his ears. “What do you think she’s been doing in there? Plotting galactic domination?”</p><p>Carth recoiled. “Not funny,” he muttered.</p><p>“You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s absurd! How can she be Revan if she doesn’t remember anything about being Revan? You said yourself that the Council wiped her memories and gave her a new life!”</p><p>Rage was easier than guilt or conflict. Purer, somehow. Unsteady and furious, he slammed a fist on the control console. Mission jumped at the blow, eyes wide. “That’s right, the Council thought it was a great idea to put a leash on an amnesiac Sith Lord and parade her across the galaxy! They had to know they couldn’t keep this a secret forever. And they were more than happy to put all of our lives on the line without so much as a warning!” Carth swept an arm to encompass the entire ship. “You think Bastila would’ve been able to stop her if Revan turned on us?”</p><p>“But she didn’t. And she won’t.” For a brief moment, Carth wanted nothing more than to experience Mission’s certainty. But that was something he would never feel again. She looked at him, imploring. “Even if you don’t want to, I know you understand Velire would never hurt any of us.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? Sith aren’t famous for having friends. Or mercy.” He leaned back in his seat and ran a hand along his jaw. “Look, Mission. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to steer clear of her. She’s a danger to everyone around her, especially now.”</p><p>Mission stared at him in shock. “You— you can’t be serious! How could you think like that—you of all people?”</p><p>Carth barely managed to ground out a response through clenched teeth. “And what is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“You’ve known her longer than the rest of us have. And I thought you two were… you know…” Mission’s hands fluttered in midair in a vague gesture.</p><p>The words were choked. “We’re not.”</p><p>“Oh,” she said in a very different voice, and her mouth snapped shut. Under any other circumstances, her expression would’ve been funny.</p><p>Carth looked away, swallowing hard. He didn’t want to think about <em>her</em>, or about—whatever the frack it had been. A part of him wished Mision would just go away. “I’m sure you’re more than ready to stretch your legs, so you should gear up.”</p><p>Mission hesitated, one hand gripping an armrest as if it were an anchor. “Just— just can you explain to me why you’re so convinced she’s evil now?”</p><p>This time he didn’t even try to get a handle on his temper. “How can you even ask me that? Every evil the Sith have committed, Revan is ultimately responsible for! She’s the one who betrayed the Republic and took a lot of good men down with her. She’s the one who found the Star Forge and founded the Sith Empire we’re now fighting—I lost my family and my homeworld because of her!”</p><p>“I lost my homeworld to the Sith, too!” Mission’s chin rose an inch, eyes flashing with fury. Then she sucked in several breaths—in, hold, out—and then a lance of pain ran through Carth’s gut as he realised it was a breathing technique she must’ve picked up from Velire or Bastila. When her gaze returned to him, a strange thrill of dread ran through him. “What I mean to say is, I get it. You can’t say I don’t. And I’ve gotta wonder… do you ever live in the present? ‘Cause you sure like to look back instead of seeing what’s in front of you.”</p><p>Her words landed sharp as a kick. He couldn’t breathe.</p><p>“Get out.”</p><p>For a split second, Carth got a front-row seat to the hurt and outrage spasming across her face before she shot to her feet. “Fine. Stay here and mope for all I care!”</p><p>The crack of her boots on the deck, loud and angry, signalled her exit. Carth didn’t watch her go. He leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed tight across his chest, seething. His every nerve was alight, pulse thundering under his skin, stomach roiling as he replayed her betrayed expression over and over. Already a hard knot of guilt was forming in his gut.</p><p>Carth pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. <em>Frack.</em></p><p>All at once, exhaustion bore down on him, heavier than before. The cold, ugly feeling continued to roll through him; somehow he still wasn’t free of it, even though Saul was dead. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be free of it.</p><p>Choking down the bitter disappointment, Carth found himself again sifting through the ashes of his life for just one thing that would allow him to keep going. All he found was duty. Again. If the Republic wanted so much as a hope of defeating Malak, their mission here couldn’t fail. Which meant cooperating with Revan.</p><p>Just the thought of facing her made him choke. A part of him wondered how much more of himself he could give to the Republic. But he’d sworn an oath, and that had to mean something even if nothing else did.</p><p>Another promise lurked in the back of his mind, his own soft words like ghosts to join all the others that haunted him. Carth closed his eyes at the stab of pain behind his breastbone. Underneath all the betrayal, under all the guilt, was a kernel of grief. For what, exactly, he wasn’t sure. Everything, maybe.</p><p>Slumping in his seat, he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Manaan was, objectively speaking, a beautiful world. Its high, fine sky was a richer blue than the sleek skirts of a Coruscanti senator, detailed with fine wisps of clouds that could not dampen the day. Endless ocean swells drifted out to a distant horizon that separated air from wave. Resting atop the water like a crown was Ahto City: a sweeping, elegant construction that gleamed silver under the unveiled sun. A multitude of balconies and plazas offered expansive views of the ocean, no doubt for the benefit of traders and tourists. It was entirely unlike any of the other backrocket worlds Velire had landed on in recent memory—or rather, the only memory she could trust.</p><p>She hated it.</p><p>She hated how the sun beat down on the top of her head with a white fury while endless frigid gales whipped through the plazas, clawing at her arms and hair. She hated the confusing haze of gently arcing corridors and promenades laid out in precise networks. She hated the monotony of overbright grey and white, how nothing could catch her attention or distract her from probing at the bond the way a tongue probed at an aching tooth.</p><p>Nothing but silence.</p><p>The dignified facade made for an effective cage. No matter what, Velire felt cold. Alienated from her own body, her skin prickled as if it were stretched too thin. The Force swirled around her, never far from her fingertips should she wish to unleash it. She kept her hands at her sides and every emotion clamped down to avoid any <em>accidents</em>. At least no one expected a Jedi to smile.</p><p>She couldn’t afford a single mistake. Not now. Not on Manaan, when there were eyes everywhere, enclosing her on all sides: security camera lenses gleamed from every corner, Sith sneered behind their faceless helmets at her robes and sabers, Republic officers hid their curiosity under polite deference. Not to mention several pairs of familiar eyes were burning into her back at any given moment.</p><p>Velire ignored all of the scrutiny. They could see whatever they wished to see. She would be whoever she needed to be to complete the mission and no more.</p><p>Perhaps, then, she shouldn’t hate Manaan. Was it not also a deceptive beauty, whose graceful open plazas left one exposed to fierce sun and frigid wind? Did its delicate poise of neutrality not also conceal darker undercurrents beneath its surface?</p><p>Carth insisted on accompanying Velire to the Republic Embassy, trading his flight jacket for the uniform that had languished in his footlocker for months. Even though he was a career man through and through, wearing his loyalties on his sleeve, Velire still had a yawning half-second of confusion when she laid eyes on him bedecked in his uniform.</p><p>Waiting for the ambassador to see them, they stood beside each other in rigid silence. Velire kept her hands folded across her stomach while Carth stood with his hands behind his back in parade rest. Eyes forward, breaths measured, worlds apart.</p><p>Velire stretched her senses to encompass the room. She noted the positions of personnel and sought out any presences that didn’t belong, flowing around the man beside her like water around a river stone. Carth’s mind was guarded at the best of times, unconsciously repelling all but the most persistent of intruders. Now, she may as well have been standing beside a permacrete wall. Whatever hatred he felt was well-hidden.</p><p>An aide summoned them to the ambassador’s office and they both lurched forward to escape each other.</p><p>Carth didn’t turn her in to the Republic, a fact which mildly surprised her. Nor did his presence actually help cut through the ambassador’s disassembling.</p><p>Roland Wann was well-suited to his position on Manaan, possessing a welcoming smile that almost concealed the sharpness of his gaze. “Welcome to Manaan, my friends. I’m afraid I was not briefed on the arrival of a Jedi, or I would have prepared a more suitable welcome.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble,” Carth said before Velire could answer. If he looked slightly strained at hearing Velire referred to as a Jedi, then at least the good ambassador couldn’t begin to guess at the reason why. “We were hoping you might have information that can aid our mission.”</p><p>Roland affected polite surprise. “I hope I may be of assistance, although I cannot imagine what information I have that could be of use.”</p><p>“An artifact,” Velire cut in, ignoring Carth’s sharp gaze now boring into her temple. “On the seabed, yet clearly not of Selkath construction.”</p><p>Roland’s surprise turned to intrigue. “I see. I may, in fact, know of what you seek. One of our survey droids recently reported strange readings, although the droid was hijacked by the Sith before it could return to base.”</p><p>“If you could provide the telemetry from the droid, we’d be most grateful.”</p><p>“I’m afraid the data you seek would have to be recovered from the droid’s databanks.” And yet he looked anything but afraid—indeed, he looked almost pleased with himself, that such a convenient solution had presented itself for his current predicament.</p><p>Velire’s fingers dug into her stomach. “This is a matter of utmost urgency, Ambassador.”</p><p>“Of that I am certain. The Jedi have a grave duty in this war, as do I. And I must ensure the Republic remains well-supplied with kolto so lives may be saved.”</p><p>Velire raised an eyebrow. Cool, measured, silent.</p><p>“As you can see,” Roland continued with a conciliatory smile, “it is in our best interests to aid one another.”</p><p>“We’ll do whatever we can to help, Ambassador,” Carth promised.</p><p>“Of course,” Velire said, empty, and turned on her heel.</p><p>She broke into the Sith Embassy to recover the probe’s data as promised and was almost surprised when the ambassador kept his promise to allow her crew access to Hrakert Rift Station. Until he mentioned the true purpose behind the probe.</p><p>“You violated the Republic’s treaty with the Selkath?” Velire demanded.</p><p>“Our arrangement has the support and cooperation of certain parties within Manaan’s central government,” Roland answered smoothly. “If you would investigate the station during your expedition, the Republic would be most grateful.”</p><p>Velire drew in a tight breath. “Prepare the submersible, then.”</p><p>Roland walked her to the door, expression pleasant and shoulders tight, then shut the door behind her.</p><p>—</p><p>Velire was disturbed from her meditation by an alert from the Republic Embassy that the submersible was ready. She spared a glance at her wrist chrono—9:03a.m., local time—then rose to her feet to gather a squad. After a night of meditation, her joints were stiff; ignoring it, she limped out of the cargo hold. Jolee and Canderous were easy enough to track down, and neither gave her any sass—indeed, Canderous’s steely gaze was entirely too respectful for her taste.</p><p>As they were making a final equipment check by the loading ramp, Carth emerged from the main hold, fully geared up. His expression was inscrutable and his voice clipped as he said, “Hold on. You’re not going down there without me.”</p><p>“The vessel only seats three people. Sorry.” Velire moved to brush past him but his hand snapped out to grab her arm.</p><p>“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not taking the Mandalorian to a classified Republic facility.”</p><p>“Not your call, Republic,” Canderous rumbled.</p><p>So they were back to ‘the Mandalorian’ and ‘Republic’ as modes of address. Velire would wonder at the cause if she could bring herself to care. She merely raised an eyebrow at Carth. “Given the Republic has been hiring mercenaries to investigate the station, he could have been contracted to take on this mission were his circumstances different.”</p><p>A muscle in Carth’s jaw jumped. “This is Republic business, which makes it my business. And you…”</p><p>
  <em>Can’t be trusted.</em>
</p><p>Velire’s voice was soft. Restrained. “Let go of me.”</p><p>His arm dropped at once as if burned, but he didn’t back down. “I know Republic protocols and can shoot as straight as Ordo can. Anyone still alive down there will be happier to see me than a Mandalorian, and things could get messy if any survivors panic. Don’t pretend I’m not the better choice here.”</p><p>“We’re going in blind, so I need people I can rely on at my back.”</p><p>Carth drew back as if stung. “I know the stakes of this war better than you do. We need that Star Map, period.”</p><p>“Then stop holding me up so I can go get it,” Velire snapped. Resisting the urge to run a hand over her face, she instead drew in a steadying breath. It didn’t exactly help, but she couldn’t afford to lose control.</p><p>His shoulders set in that stubborn line she knew so well by now. “Not without me.”</p><p>She was so tired. All that mattered was rescuing Bastila and finding the Star Forge, and she supposed the path of least resistance would achieve those goals faster. “Fine. But you’re piloting.”</p><p>A part of her was foolish enough to almost expect a returning quip—<em>that’s what I’m here for</em>—but he simply brushed past her without a further word.</p><p>Velire glanced to Canderous in mute apology, and he shrugged one meaty shoulder. “Your call.” There was a certain irony that the Mandalorian was the one accepting bad orders with discipline.</p><p>As Velire moved to pass Canderous, he held out an arm. His gaze was hooded. “Don’t hesitate to put him in his place if he gets out of line.”</p><p>“When have I ever?”</p><p>His durasteel grey eyes saw entirely too much. “You’d let him kill you if you thought he’d forgive you.”</p><p>Velire said nothing. Perhaps it was a good thing she’d swapped Canderous for Carth, after all.</p><p>“Trust your instincts down there. Don’t flinch from the fight, or from yourself.”</p><p>Definitely a good thing, she decided. “Noted.”</p><p>Canderous produced a half-dozen stims, shoving them into her hand. “Who knows how long you’ll be down there. Don’t do anything stupid with them.”</p><p>Velire hesitated, then secreted the stims away in a belt pouch. “Thanks, Ordo.”</p><p>“Don’t die down there, either. It wouldn’t be worthy of you.” With a final clap on the shoulder, Canderous finally let her pass, and Velire all but fled the <em>Hawk</em>.</p><p>The submersible itself was nothing special, just a tiny vessel that could barely squeeze in a third passenger—and that was before it had been loaded up with emergency supplies. Velire hung back so Carth and Jolee could board first. Carth planted himself in the pilot’s chair without so much as a glance in her direction, while Jolee surveyed her for a long moment before claiming the co-pilot’s seat. Velire settled herself in the back and focused on nothing more than drawing in careful breaths.</p><p>As Carth directed the submersible under the surface, Velire closed her eyes. Meditation would pass the time well enough. When they peeled away from Ahto City, the crisp bustle of life faded into a quiet lapping energy. The facility was perched on the edge of Hrakert Rift, far away from any native Selkath cities, and Roland had provided an approach vector that minimised encountering Selkath patrols or spying Sith.</p><p>Yet the ocean still teemed with life. Velire encountered the sparks of other creatures with scales and fins and sleek bodies, most of which she had no names for. Many fled from the submersible’s descent. Content to drift, she followed a school of darting fish that danced along the currents until they extended beyond the range of her senses, then she tracked a twenty-foot ribboning eel.</p><p>On the fringe of her senses, she detected a dark needling cold, like clouds heavy with hail gathering on the horizon. Unseen things moved in that mass of frigid death, a relentless circling without beginning or end.</p><p>One such presence peeled away from the station to hurtle towards the submersible. Velire’s senses latched onto the encroaching mass of sharp teeth and boundless hunger, and for a brief moment she saw the vessel as it did: a soulless, bulbous interloper with glowing white eyes, sparking an innate need to rend, <em>kill kill kill</em>.</p><p>Velire lanced into the firaxa’s mind. Its fury suffused her, calling to the darkness within her. For a moment, she was drowning in a yawning abyss, lost in the currents of something far greater than herself, something that urged her to <em>kill</em>—</p><p>The firaxa was scant metres away, jaws wide. Drawing her power to her, Velire smothered its mind to force it to obey <em>her </em>will. Her eyes snapped open to proximity alarms and Carth’s swearing. The firaxa careened away, out of sight of the viewport.</p><p>“It missed,” Jolee reported. “No hull damage logged. Seems the sharks are especially hungry today.”</p><p>No one mentioned that the onboard repeller systems should have warded off the firaxa.</p><p>Velire shifted behind Jolee’s chair so she could see his console readouts. The viewport was all but redundant, flat with a blue so deep it may as well have been black. She thought of the darkness she’d felt and had to wonder. “What’s our ETA?”</p><p>“Seven minutes,” Carth reported, clipped.</p><p>No point returning to her meditation, then. Velire gripped the back of Jolee’s chair and waited. The firaxa now circled them at a distance, but with a few more prods through the Force, it stayed at range.</p><p>In minutes, a faint glow appeared far below, growing larger every second. Soon enough, that glow resolved to unnatural shapes and shadows: a network of blocky prefabs that had been bolted into the seabed, perched oh-so-precariously near the edge of the great Hrakert Rift.</p><p>Velire hummed a flat note. “The facility still has power, at least. Have the scanners detected any hull breaches?”</p><p>“Sensors are logging structural damage and flooding in the southern wing of the facility,” Carth answered. “Northern wing still appears pressurised.”</p><p>Jolee made an appreciative noise. “Air <em>and</em> power? It’s our lucky day, children.”</p><p>As Carth steered the submersible into the nearest non-flooded docking bay, Velire threw out her senses again, meeting nothing but that same dripping cold as before. By the time the vessel powered down, Velire was already prying the hatch open. A clammy kiss of damp, frigid air washed over her face. She hopped out before Carth and Jolee had even unbuckled their harnesses.</p><p>Nothing in the docking bay seemed overtly wrong. No bodies, dead or alive. Other vessels loomed in their bays, dark and vacant. Dim emergency lights cast more shadows than they alleviated, and the ventilation system was barely able to supply air warmer than ‘frozen’. The bulkhead door to the station proper was sealed tight. An uneasy silence smothered the docking bay, dripping with anticipation.</p><p>“The station must be running on a backup generator,” Carth said. Although his voice was quiet, it cut through the ambience like a blade splitting water, and then was swallowed by the gloom.</p><p>Velire carefully cast out with the Force. The silence may have been loud, but it was not empty: a remembered typhoon of panic rushed through the corridors, a black miasma of death sliding down the walls. If anyone yet lived, their presence was masked by the echoes.</p><p>Jolee grunted, making a similar assessment. “I can sense a great deal of panic and pain. Whatever happened here wasn’t pretty.”</p><p>With that cheery pronouncement, Velire sliced open the docking bay door.</p><p>The facility stunk of laser burns, brine and blood. They stepped with care through processing into the administration wing. Desks had been turned over in crude barricades, but the rooms had been otherwise stripped clean of anything useful, presumably by the preceding teams. Velire’s boots made no sound, nor did Jolee’s as he ghosted beside her, a testament to twenty years in Kashyyyk’s Shadowlands. Carth, however, wasn’t graced with natural stealth; despite his best efforts, his footsteps echoed down the corridor in a hollow <em>plunk-plunk-plunk</em>, like stones cast into a river.</p><p>Palming the door panel, Velire froze as a fresh waft of rot bloomed on the threshold. Down the corridor, dark smears of blood glimmered under the cool lights. They crisscrossed the walls and floor in a grisly map, a crude counterpart to the schematics Roland had provided. It was difficult to tell the colour in the dingy lighting.</p><p>Velire led the way, mounting dread thickening on her tongue. The Force sang with refracted fear. As they passed, Carth was the first to notice the wild spray of carbon scoring, ranging from the floor and up the walls almost to the ceiling.</p><p>He scowled at a loose trio of shots dangerously close to the panel of another locked door. “Question is, were they panicking or shooting at something that could move erratically?”</p><p>“Could’ve been both,” Jolee replied.</p><p>Velire said nothing as she sliced the lock.</p><p>In the dark halls of Hrakert Station, Manaan’s perfect facade peeled away. They found the first bodies scant corridors away. Three of them, all hired mercenaries, piled up like so much meat. Velire nudged the nearest corpse with her boot. Long since turned stiff with rigor mortis, it resisted her attempt to roll it onto its back. Pieces of armour had been torn off, leaving ragged claw marks, and its throat was torn open and gaping.</p><p>Carth scowled down at the bodies. “Look at those wounds. Whatever killed them didn’t use blasters or vibroblades.”</p><p>At the bottom of the ocean, no native creature should have been able to survive out of water, let alone hunt down the facility’s personnel.</p><p>“Whatever killed them did so at close range.” Velire scanned the room’s corners and vents, but nothing appeared out of place. No sign that something had burst out of hiding. “Let’s keep moving.”</p><p>They picked their way around the first clutch of bodies, avoiding blood splatter as much as possible.</p><p>Soon enough they stumbled upon more bodies. Workers this time, both scientists and guards, as well as a mix of Republic and Selkath personnel. The latter, Velire didn’t fail to note, sported blaster burns rather than the gouges that afflicted their Republic colleagues.</p><p>A gurgling screech echoed down the corridor. Three Selkath lumbered around the corner, their quick gibbering cries incomprehensible even to Velire.</p><p>“It’s all right,” she called. “We’re with the Republic—”</p><p>But her voice was drowned out by furious shrieks as the trio of Selkath charged. Beside her, Carth swore, and his own shouts that they weren’t a threat went ignored. Velire reached out, sensing a thick, muddying rage smothering their minds. Mouth dry, she raised a hand to marshall the Force. The local gravity heaved in answer, blasting the Selkath back. One struck the wall with a crunch while the other two tumbled in a heap, but in moments all three were scrambling to their feet with murder in their eyes.</p><p>For all their ferocity, they were dispatched easily enough with a thrown lightsaber and several blaster bolts. It wasn’t until Velire was staring down at the nearest body, at his bloodied and torn lab coat, that she realised just how easily she’d done it. A chill ran through her.</p><p>“The hell was that?” Carth asked. “There’s being spooked, but that was something else…”</p><p>Velire knelt beside the body. The dead Selkath’s eyes stared at her in blank accusation. Blood spattered across his lab coat in macabre patterns and mixed with the venom dripping from his exposed claws. Her eyes narrowed at the sight. Much like Wookiees, Selkath had strict taboos around using their claws as weapons. “Did the <em>Selkath </em>kill the Republic personnel here?”</p><p>“It’s sure shaping up that way,” Jolee rumbled. “Come, let’s not linger here.”</p><p>Except it didn’t matter whether they lingered or not. Over the dim sounds of the station, there was no mistaking the frequent patter of footsteps as other marauding bands stalked them. Drawn by the commotion,they encountered wave after wave of Selkath, all babbling and snarling like the first three. Velire found herself drawing on the Force more and more, stunning Selkath and striking while they were vulnerable. Her movements were mechanical, almost by rote, barely affected by the terrible shrieks that echoed through the corridors. She forced her mind to empty, to ignore the coats and uniforms and the itching reality that incoherent or no, they were still civilians.</p><p>Velire, Jolee and Carth followed the stretching corridors, inspecting an empty checkpoint before making their way to an unflooded suite of labs. Despite their efforts, they found no survivors and no clue that could explain what happened. The direct route to station security was cut off by a sabotaged door, and none of the terminals they found had clearance to access station cameras.</p><p>After scowling over the station schematics, Velire found another route to the security room that led them past the crew quarters. After clearing several rooms of Selkath, Velire turned to leave, only to be halted by a light touch on her arm.</p><p>As she flinched away, she realised it was just Jolee. “What?”</p><p>His expression remained smooth. For a man who claimed he wasn’t a Jedi, he sure could pretend as well as the rest of them. He jerked his chin in the direction of a row of lockers. “There’s someone in there.”</p><p>Velire stretched out her senses, hunting for life. A little chill ran through her as she detected a flickering life force underneath the pervasive cold that suffused the station. She hadn’t noticed him at all.</p><p>Carth shifted on his feet. For the first time since they’d entered the station, his blasters were lowered by his sides. “A survivor, you say?” He approached the row of lockers, calling, “Hello? It’s safe now. You can come out.”</p><p>A male voice answered from one of the lockers, speaking Basic. “Fishy, fishy, fishy? Come to eat me too? You can’t get me, little fishy. I’m safe behind my walls!”</p><p>Carth tried again. “The Republic sent us to investigate the station. Why don’t you come out and tell us what happened here?”</p><p>“No, no, no, no. I’m safe in here. You’re just like the others—fodder for the Selkath!”</p><p>Velire stepped towards the locker, although she kept her distance from Carth. “What happened to the Selkath? Why did they turn on you?”</p><p>“Don’t know! Why don’t you go ask them?” His laugh echoed through the locker grate.</p><p>Velire’s jaw ached, and she realised she was clenching her teeth. “There has to be something you can tell us. What was going on when the Selkath all snapped?”</p><p>“Sure, I can tell you something: you’re just like the others. Walking fish snacks. If you run you might be fast food!”</p><p>Something quiet in the back of her head snapped. Calling on the Force, Velire said, “You want to come out of the locker—”</p><p>“The hell are you doing?” Carth hissed as Jolee grabbed her shoulder. “That’s not gonna work, kid. There’s nothing left of his wits to reason with.”</p><p>Velire shook Jolee off, mouth set in a thin line, and turned back to the locker. “Fine. Rot in there.”</p><p>“Better than rotting in fishy’s stomach!”</p><p>Lip curled in disgust, Velire turned away. There was no one left to give any explanation—besides, as the man suggested, the Selkath themselves. As they trudged on, Velire considered her options. In the next mob of Selkath, she toyed with one while Carth and Jolee handled the rest. It only took a couple of quick strikes to his legs for him to fall to his knees, then she seized the opportunity to reach for the man’s mind. Without any reason or perception to influence, she had to rely on brute force to subdue him, struggling against the thick black miasma slithering through his thoughts.</p><p>Velire drew in a breath. Revan had reportedly possessed a considerable connection to the Force. Maybe it was time to use it. Drawing her power to her, she dug deep into the Selkath’s mind. One broken, insane man couldn’t get the better of her. She wove together the shards of his mind, damming up the oily rage that smothered his faculties. She barely managed to push it back enough for some clarity to return to the man’s eyes.</p><p>The Selkath man gasped. “<em>What…?</em>”</p><p>Already Velire could feel the inky tendrils descending once more, no matter how she shoved them away. “What happened here?”</p><p>Footsteps cracked across the floor. Carth appeared in her peripheral vision, his expression hard. “You’re going to mess with everyone’s minds until you get an answer, is that it?”</p><p>Ignoring him, Velire focused all her attention on the Selkath. “Tell me what happened here!”</p><p>The Selkath twisted in place, his eyes rolling. “<em>The… scream…</em>”</p><p>All at once, her control slipped. With an enraged gurgle, the Selkath lunged for Carth. He swore and raised his blasters, but in the accelerated split-second of awareness, she knew he wouldn’t fire in time.</p><p>Velire lashed out on instinct. A wave of brute force blasted the Selkath into a wall with a nauseating crunch. He slid to the ground, twitching, then went still.</p><p>Velire stared, transfixed in horror. Her breaths came short and sharp as if she’d gone two rounds wrestling a rancor. She didn’t dare look at her companions.</p><p>At last, Jolee grunted. “I told you that won’t work.”</p><p>“I… I almost had it.”</p><p>“Almost only counts in guarlara-shoes and grenades, kid.” Not unkind, but firm. “Whatever happened to these people won’t be solved with a few mind tricks.”</p><p>Velire swallowed. “Let’s just… go.”</p><p>No one answered. Jolee’s wary concern grated against her, and she couldn’t read anything from Carth. He offered no comment, expression set in a grim mask, merely checking his blasters as he fell in. Velire told herself it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she could make him hate her any more than he already did. She hoped.</p><p>Past the monotony of horror, exhaustion wore at Velire. Relentless echoes through the Force pressed down on her from all sides, and it took continuous effort to drown out the lingering reek of fear and death. All she could do was let the men take point after they’d cleared the mess hall and quietly use one of the stims Canderous had given her. The pinprick of pain in her thigh almost immediately gave way to a wash of fresh, false energy. Velire quietly kicked the empty syringe under a table and hurried to catch up as Jolee called for her to slice open a door. She ignored his lingering gaze on her back.</p><p>At last, survivors. A pair of human scientists, hiding in the security room, who explained that the drilling project had disturbed some kind of sea monster. Velire peered out the viewport as they recounted the awful shriek that had driven their Selkath colleagues insane. The waters were dark and still save for the occasional flick of a firaxa’s fins.</p><p>As Velire turned to leave, Dr Kono Nolan shoved a canister of poison into her numb hands, begging her to end the threat over Dr Sami Roye’s protests that it would destroy the local ecosystem. Perhaps the kolto deposit itself. Velire hefted the smooth canister in her hands; it was dense for its size and cold with the anticipation of death.</p><p>Velire clipped it onto her belt and urged her companions onward. With some searching, they managed to find a single enviro-suit that wasn’t slashed to ribbons, and she didn’t know whether to thank the Force or curse it.</p><p>Before she could step into the airlock, Jolee caught her arm. “Hold on, lass.”</p><p>“What, Jolee?”</p><p>“Just think we should talk for a minute, is all.” His voice was casual, placating, and she didn’t trust it. “Run out there without a plan and you’re as good as fish food.”</p><p>From his position by the door, Carth twitched but said nothing.</p><p>Velire gritted her teeth. “Find the Star Map and stop whatever caused this mess.”</p><p>Jolee’s brow set, not quite a frown. “That poison—”</p><p>“Would wreak havoc on the ecosystem if released into open water, I know.”</p><p>He didn’t look reassured. “And?”</p><p>“Nobody else is going to die today. I’ll make sure of that.”</p><p>Jolee searched her face, then released her arm. “Just remember, kid, that you always have a choice.”</p><p>As the bulkhead door cycled shut, Velire could only think about what a lie that was.</p><p>Her heartbeat hammered in her ears and her head felt thick. The stim was already wearing thin in her blood. So she ignored all good medical advice to administer another, relishing the half-second of numbing bliss, and hurried to put on her enviro-suit with renewed energy. Water seeped into the room, an even creeping of frigid cold that swallowed her ankles, her knees, her hips. When it rose over her helmet, she was truly alone.</p><p>Velire stepped out of the airlock and into a clear darkness.</p><p>The airlock exterior was lit with floodlights like so many great white eyes, casting cloudy beams of light into the depths. Mere metres away, the illumination dispersed into nothingness, swallowed by the deep sea. If she looked up, there was no glimpse of the surface, no suggestion that anything existed beyond the blank expanse. Instead of the glow of stars overhead, light glimmered off the hides of distant circling firaxa.</p><p>Velire decided, then, to keep her gaze on the seabed, where a plume of sediment rose with each ponderous step, and let her senses stretch into the void. Life flourished in the ocean, even here. Small invertebrates scurried across the sand, tiny fish darted out from rocky cover—<span>and, of course, there was the school of firaxa, the nearest of which sailed towards her with a wide, predatory grin.</span></p><p>Velire reached out through the Force to cloud its senses, rendering herself invisible. The shark veered past her, close enough she could have stretched out a hand to touch its mottled hide, and it turned in a befuddled circle. Velire resumed her walk. Each step was even, measured, in time with her heartbeat.</p><p>The kolto harvester loomed in the distance, with several smaller pieces of machinery wallowing in its shadow. Glowing trail markers led away from the relative safety of the station, forging a strange trail across the gently sloping seabed to the primary dig site. Cold leached through the suit; the only sound was her own breathing echoing off her helmet as she walked. In such profound isolation, the distant call of the Star Map was a clear, sweet bell-note in her mind. Its presence offered a deceptive comfort that she knew, objectively, she shouldn’t trust.</p><p>Maybe it took ten minutes to reach the harvester’s control centre. Maybe it took ten hours. The boxy prefab sat a safe distance from the harvester itself, although its airlock gaped open.</p><p>Velire felt a shift in the seabed before she saw it. A vertiginous sense of the horizon tipping as currents flowed around her. The temperature somehow seemed to drop several more degrees.</p><p>Something rose from the nearby rift. Velire’s blood ran cold.</p><p>Glimmers of light from the station couldn’t quantify its form. Stretching out through the Force, she sought an answer her weak vision couldn’t provide. It swelled with every passing moment, the ocean shifting around the vast power. Velire was almost swept into the locus of that smothering cold she’d first sensed on their approach to the station.</p><p>Her mind filled in the blanks with data from the sensor feeds that the scientists had shown her: a thing easily ten times the size of other firaxa, with a thick mottled hide and a mouth like the void, ringed with saw-toothed fangs. A titan of the deep.</p><p>And the full force of the great mother’s attention landed on Velire.</p><p>Mouth dry, she bolted for the control centre. The ocean pressed down on her with near-unbearable force, slowing her to a terrifying crawl. She compensated with an adrenaline-sharp bolt of the Force, racing for the gaping airlock. She hit the controls, and a white pulse of fear ran through her when the doors refused to close. Fighting some choice invective, she pressed herself into the nearest corner. The poison canister at her hip clanked against the wall.</p><p>On the far side of the prefab, a bay of consoles stretched in front of a viewscreen that offered an ample view of the dig site—or would have if it wasn’t filled with a flash of mottled grey hide. The wall heaved and shuddered against Velire’s back. There was no sound but her own gasp echoing off her helmet as the titan slammed into the control centre once, twice, three times. Each blow battered Velire, rattling down her spine and through the rest of her body. Her ribs ached. The floor wobbled dangerously beneath her feet, and she knew the prefab would give way before the titan did. As soon as the great shark shook Velire out of hiding, she would correct the insult of a landwalker’s presence.</p><p>Velire’s mouth went dry as she cast about for options. The seabed stretched in all directions, an alien landscape of bone-pale sediment and lumpy accretion. Each trail marker may as well have been a klick apart, tracing an all-too-exposed path back to the distant station.</p><p>She closed her eyes. <em>No way but forward.</em></p><p>Ignoring the fact she’d failed miserably with the Selkath and the man in the locker, Velire reached out through the Force. The titan’s mind detected her at once, and she was flooded with a rush of sensation. The titan had no language, nothing more than primal willpower shaped into meaning. Velire’s sense of the seascape fell away as she drowned in its sheer volume.</p><p>Time ceased to exist as she gasped and floundered, struggling to discern any pattern in the rush of input. At last she made sense of the wild sensations: ocean currents which flowed across the entire planet, connecting warm surface waters to the ocean deep from which all life sprang. Generations of bones and corals had been ground to sediment on the seabed, sculpted by deep-sea pressures over thousands of patient years, giving rise to new life. An endless cycle of life and death and life again.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, Velire reflected her own perceptions back to the titan: of the floor beneath her boots, the particles dancing in front of her visor, of the endless eddies of life that surrounded her, webbing outward to encompass everything, from the simplest seagrass to the apex sharks.</p><p>Several seconds passed before the titan gave any indication that she’d heard Velire, let alone understood. The noise shifted, showing the cycle disrupted by strange interlopers who disturbed the rift. The titan’s entire rage coalesced on the harvester.</p><p>For several dizzying moments, buffeted by a tide of sensation, Velire saw it as the titan did. Intruder, destroyer, polluter.</p><p><em>Ah</em>.</p><p>Velire stepped towards the bay of consoles. Through the viewport, she could just glimpse the harvester perched on the edge of the mining pit while the titan herself loomed over the prefab with all the force of a planet, so close Velire could see white pinpoints from the floodlights reflecting in her eyes. With trembling hands, Velire overloaded the harvester’s intake.</p><p>For several grinding moments, there was no movement but for the dancing particles in front of her visor. A thunderous vibration ran through the floor, then the harvester shuddered. One processing tank burst, then another, before the entire thing gave way. The remains of the harvester tumbled off its perch, fragmenting into pieces carried away to the ocean’s uncertain mercy. A shockwave rippled across the seabed, sweeping away loose chunks of stone and coral. The wave of pressure made the prefab creak under the strain, and Velire ducked behind the bay of consoles.</p><p>The titan seemed to watch with satisfaction, her bulk barely displaced by the wave of pressure even as smaller firaxa fled in all directions. At last, the cold maelstrom eased.</p><p>Then the titan turned, almost ponderously, to return to the black rift from whence she came.</p><p>But Velire closed her eyes and lanced more images into the titan’s mind. Hrakert Station, not an interloper but an emergent growth, no more unnatural than a forest of twisting kelp taking root on the seabed. Its inhabitants, Selkath and Republic alike, as much a part of the web of life as any other denizen of the deep. And then she narrowed her focus to the Selkath, sending images of the incoherent wrecks who now stalked the station’s halls, just as deranged as the school of firaxa that had circled outside.</p><p><em>Fix them. </em>Not said in so many words, but a demand nonetheless.</p><p>The titan barely slowed down, her mind dull with disinterest, so Velire sent it images of the firaxa she had diverted instead of killed despite their murderous intent. <em>I didn’t kill your children when they were a threat. Now the threat has passed. So fix the Selkath.</em></p><p>Seconds stretched in silence. Then the might of the titan swelled again, and Velire had a half-second to fully appreciate the mistake she’d made before it drove her to her knees.</p><p>No other word for it but a shriek, piercing through Velire’s mind, driving every other thought out of her skull. She couldn’t even hear her own gasping breaths. With every second, the pain ratcheted up to a wailing crescendo. Black spots spread across her vision.</p><p>And then the sound died away, echoing like ripples across the seabed. Silent but for the soft <em>plink-plink-plink</em> of blood against her visor.</p><p>Velire sucked in a breath, then another, marshalling whatever waning willpower she had left. The taste of copper was thick on her tongue as her nose bled. Heaving herself to her feet, she stepped out of the protection of the control centre. The titan’s presence was distant and fading fast. Pushing off from the doorway, Velire staggered onward to the secondary dig site. Looming in the centre, a familiar three-pronged artifact seemed to devour all light, as dark as the abyss that surrounded it.</p><p>She sank to her knees before the Star Map, causing a plume of sediment to swirl around her in intricate whorls. Sensing her presence, the black metal flower bloomed for her. It was as beautiful as all the others, its glow the only colour in the universe. Particles writhed in the sphere of colour, filling in the corrupted sectors of the map with their own constellations. No matter the circumstances, her breath caught.</p><p>Velire rocked back on her heels, her eyes sliding closed. She felt lighter than air. As if she might just float away.</p><p>At last.</p><p>At last. She could save Bastila.</p><p>Somehow Velire managed to stagger back to the airlock, feeling all the weight of the ocean pressing down on her. Once the seawater drained away, she tore off her helmet and cracked open a canister of purified water to scrub the blood off her face. Pink rivulets ran down her neck to soak into her collar.</p><p>Velire barely registered the door cycling open. Then Jolee was beside her, gripping her shoulder to keep her upright. “You’re looking remarkably worse for wear, kid.”</p><p>Grey tendrils warped her vision as she sucked in one breath, then another. “You sure know how to charm a girl, Bindo.”</p><p>Any pretence of humour slid from his face. “Don’t tell me you got into a screaming match with that thing.”</p><p>“No. No…” She sucked in a breath as the world spun. “I asked her to release the Selkath…”</p><p>Maybe the men made noises of shock, or maybe that was just blood roaring in her ears. The world constricted and she sank into the welcoming black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a particular clarity that came with certainty. Carth stood guard by the barricaded airlock exit, waiting for the giant firaxa to die. Velire’s dead-eyed expression lurked in the back of his mind, and nothing could exorcise it. That distilled resolve was unnervingly familiar—in the wars, Revan had never tolerated any obstacles to her objective.</p><p>A distant patter of footsteps had Carth tensing, readying his blasters. The footsteps grew louder, deeper, accompanied by faint gurgling. He tracked them in his mind—maybe three or four of them, approaching the airlock. But the footsteps passed by, and soon faded away. At least they didn’t seem to be smart enough to be able to unlock doors.</p><p>Before he could ease his grip on his blasters, a distant vibration rumbled through the facility. Jolee’s eyes snapped open where he sat meditating, and he sprang to his feet with an energy that belied his age.</p><p>Carth followed him, and they hurried to the nearby terminal. “What the hell was that?”</p><p>Jolee grunted as he navigated to the external camera feeds. “An answer, I think.”</p><p>Before Carth could demand a real answer, not some Jedi babble, his attention was caught by the terminal screen. That monstrous shark was sailing into the black, away from the station. It was definitely alive, fins undulating. A thrill of unease sang through his nerves at the sight.</p><p>An alert blared in Selkatha and Basic across the terminal: <em>Warning: Critical failure detected in primary harvester. Evacuate immediately.</em></p><p>Carth scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing. “Did she actually—”</p><p>Before he could finish, the world erupted with an almighty scream. He folded over, all air punched from his lungs, and distantly felt the thunk of cold durasteel beneath his knees. The awful, keening wail pressed down on him from all sides, the immense pressure threatening to rupture his eardrums. Any sense of time was lost as he drowned in the noise.</p><p>All sensation filtered through as if from a great distance. Several muddy seconds passed before it even registered that he could perceive anything other than the scream itself. He sucked in a careful breath, grimacing at the cold bite of salt and blood. The muscles in his chest felt tight while his head pounded. A hollow ringing filled his ears in the wake of the sonic blast, and he reached up to check they weren’t bleeding.</p><p>Nearby, Jolee was hunched over with the heel of a palm pressed to his forehead. “When those scientists described that great beast’s scream, you know what I didn’t think? ‘Wow, I’d like to experience that for myself!’”</p><p>“What just happened? Why did it attack the station again?” Another quieter question lurked in the back of his mind, no less panicked: <em>is Velire alive?</em></p><p>Carth scrambled for the terminal to scroll through the security feeds. He couldn’t see her at the harvester control centre, and for the briefest moment, his heart stopped.</p><p>Jolee shook himself out with a grunt. “I’d say a certain somebody prodded a sleeping kath hound. Or firaxa, in this case. You want the feed for the secondary dig site, by the way.”</p><p>In silence, they tracked Velire’s return to base. One lonely enviro-suit meandering across the seabed, little more than a moving shadow across the feeds. When the exterior airlock began its cycle, Carth found his gaze locked on the door.</p><p>The inner door hissed open. Velire swayed in the centre of the water-slick floor, exo suit discarded. Carth barely registered her hollow banter with Jolee; he was too busy scanning her face, searching for some hint as to what happened out on the seabed. She was looking shockingly worse for wear, her face bone-white under the slowly flickering lights save for high spots of red on her cheeks. Hastily-scrubbed blood and water trailed down her chin to drip on the collar of her robes.</p><p>When Velire’s knees buckled, Carth was halfway across the room before his brain caught up with the situation. Jolee grabbed a hold of her to keep her from falling face-first as she sank to the ground.</p><p>“What’s wrong with her?” Carth’s voice was clipped.</p><p>Jolee’s hands moved in a long-familiar procedure: palm on her forehead, fingers to the pulse point in her neck, then peeling back an eyelid. A combination of combat medic and Jedi healer, but Carth didn’t need to be either to note her rapid, shallow breaths and the faint tremor running through her. “Exhaustion. Injury. Enduring ground zero of that beastie’s serenade. Take your pi— oh. Blast it, girl.”</p><p>“What? What is it?” Carth wasn’t sure what, exactly, motivated him to crouch on Velire’s other side, but he did.</p><p>Jolee checked Velire’s other eye, and Carth saw that her pupils were dilated. Before Carth could even guess at the cause, Jolee was digging through Velire’s belt pouches. With a noise of grim victory, he withdrew a trio of stims. Canderous’s, by the look of them.</p><p>Carth stopped. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”</p><p>He’d seen stim overdoses before. Allies and enemies alike, when backed into a corner, or pushed past endurance, or simply wanting an easy battle high. Alacrity was the stim of choice for star-pilots, and the one Carth had the most experience dealing with, but he knew the gamut of symptoms off the back of his hand, ranging from the relatively mild—shakes, agitation, confusion—to the potentially lethal. Little things like cardiogenic shock and kidney failure.</p><p>During the liberation of Dxun in the Mandalorian Wars, Carth had flown under the effects of adrenal alacrity after almost a week of no sleep. He still remembered drowning in the sheer weightless feeling as his brain had struggled to process what he was seeing through the viewport, numbers swimming across the consoles like meaningless squiggles before his eyes.</p><p>Swearing under his breath, Carth pulled up the base schematics on his datapad. “There’s an infirmary in this wing of the facility.”</p><p>“Good place to hunker down and ride this out,” the old man rumbled, “as long as there are no hungry Selkath in there with the same idea.” He rested one hand on her forehead and the other on her collarbones. With his eyes half-closed, Carth assumed he was using the Force to stabilise her. Velire shifted and sighed, her eyelids opening to show a thin line of white. But she didn’t wake up.</p><p>Carth frowned at the schematics again, tracing a path back to the hangar bay. It would mean going through obstructions and hostiles while down one squadmate, and they wouldn’t be able to move quickly carrying Velire. And if she crashed during their ascent to Ahto City...</p><p>“We don’t have any other options. Let’s move out.”</p><p>There was a long, awkward moment where Carth and Jolee looked at each other, silently deciding who would have the dubious honour of carrying Velire. Even if Jolee was downright spritely for an old man—and one Carth was still angry at—it didn’t feel right to make him drag Velire’s half-dead carcass across the station.</p><p>Carth sucked in a bolstering breath. He didn’t want to touch her, but there was no time. Thinking curses at the Mandalorian, he crouched down to hoist her over his shoulders. Jolee, meanwhile, waved a hand and the makeshift barricade Carth had built in front of the exit levitated away.</p><p>Jolee took point, saber lit, while Carth kept one blaster ready. Shadows lurked in every corner, too strong for the wan blue-white lights overhead to alleviate. The facility seemed all too quiet in the wake of that awful scream, the only noise stemming from the wordless pressure that came from hunkering at the bottom of the ocean. Carth strained to hear the tell-tale slap of footsteps in case the Selkath had been driven into another frenzy, but heard nothing. The back of his neck prickled, a feeling which wasn’t at all aided by the tremors in Velire’s limbs twitching against him, but he couldn’t glance over his shoulder to check they weren’t being stalked.</p><p>It struck Carth, then, that he had an unconscious Dark Lord over his shoulder. More mind-bending, it was hardly the first time when he’d seen her shot, stabbed, bitten, poisoned. Tortured. There’d been so many chances for the universe or the Force to enact some cosmic justice—and if she’d died, none of them would have known the truth, least of all her.</p><p>Shaking his head to dislodge the thought, Carth picked up the pace. More than once, he thought he saw shadows darting around a corner or through a half-open door, briefly illuminated in the ghostly green glow of Jolee’s lightsaber, but they vanished with a blink. Carth reminded himself that if they were more Selkath workers, they would’ve attacked. Not that the thought was comforting.</p><p>The infirmary was dark and vacant. Carth waited on the threshold while Jolee took a step inside, lightsaber held aloft. “Nothing in here that I can sense,” the old man rumbled.</p><p>Carth wasted no time depositing Velire on a medical cot that hadn’t been turned over. As soon as she was out of his arms, he backed off, trying to put the sudden absence of her body heat out of his mind. Instead, he turned to barricade the exit, leaving Jolee to bustle about, settling her in and righting a fallen IV stand.</p><p>Once the door was sealed and booby-trapped, Carth investigated the adjoining offices. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he stopped dead on the threshold of the first suite. “Uh, Jolee…” he called, “what did she mean by asking to save the Selkath?”</p><p>“I imagine it had something to do with that scream,” Jolee answered mildly. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>Carth kept his eyes on the sight in front of him. “Because we’re not alone.”</p><p>Under the desk, a lone Selkath woman was curled up in the corner, trembling. Beneath the blood spatters, her dishevelled uniform signified she was a med tech.</p><p>Jolee came to a halt beside him, the lines on his face deepening. “There’s something… different about that one. Quiet.”</p><p>Carth checked his blasters and stepped over the threshold. “Ma’am, are you all right? Can you hear me?”</p><p>The Selkath’s head jerked up. Her bloody fingers flexed, claws unsheathed and glistening with venom, but she only gaped at them. The translator he’d bought in Ahto City burbled as she stammered over her words.<em> “I— the— who are you?” </em></p><p>The two men shared a look. Carth thought back to the Selkath that Velire had briefly managed to mind trick into answering her. He thought of the walls of the facility rattling as the harvester blew. The mind-piercing shriek that followed.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell did you do out there?</em>
</p><p>Venturing further into the room, Carth answered, “Commander Carth Onasi, Republic Navy. My team is investigating what happened here. Can you tell me your name?”</p><p>
  <em>“I am… Nolesha. Yes, that is my name…”</em>
</p><p>“Nolesha,” Carth repeated, and briefly saw the whites of her eyes as they rolled up to fix on him. The back of his neck prickled. “Can you tell me what happened here?”</p><p><em>“Was… was there an oxygen leak? It’s all a blur. Loud. Like—”</em> She looked down. Carth could see the exact moment it registered that her hands were covered in blood. “<em>Why are my hands—? Was I performing surgery? Where are my gloves—”</em></p><p>“Hey. Hey.” Crouching beside her, Carth grabbed her wrists. Tried to ignore how close those claws, slick with blood and venom, were to his person. “Focus on me. Take a deep breath and stay calm.”</p><p>She drew in a shaky, gurgling breath. <em>“What happened?” </em></p><p>Carth swallowed. <em>Well, ma’am, the giant shark’s scream drove all of you insane and you tore the Republic personnel down here to shreds. </em></p><p>Instead, he said, “As far as we can tell, the construction on the rift woke up some kind of giant firaxa. The other survivors we’ve spoken to described it attacking the station with some kind of sonic blast.”</p><p>“<em>The scream. I remember that terrible noise… furious...</em>” A muted horror rose in her eyes, slowly rising like the tide as she began to put two and two together.</p><p>Carth tightened his grip on her wrists. Keeping his voice firm and calm, he asked, “Are you a doctor, ma’am?”</p><p>That did the trick. Her attention returned to him. <em>“I— yes, yes I am.”</em></p><p>“One of my teammates pushed herself past her limits, overdosed on stims. Can you help?”</p><p>
  <em>“I can. Selkath or offworld species?”</em>
</p><p>“Human.”</p><p>Giving her something to focus on seemed to do the trick, as Dr Nolesha clambered to her feet. Carth helped her wash the blood off her hands—<em>don’t think about where it came from</em>—and led her out to the main wing of the infirmary.</p><p>Once she laid eyes on Velire, her shoulders straightened. It was a familiar sight to watch someone push past all the horror to focus on the job at hand. Carth had seen it many times before in soldiers and civilians alike. Had done himself. Was still doing it.</p><p>Nolesha tugged on one of the cephalic lobes framing her mouth. <em>“Stim overdose, you said? What did she consume and when?”</em></p><p>“We don’t know for sure,” Carth answered, pushing down the burning feeling in his gut. “But it was probably some kind of adrenal stim within the last five hours.”</p><p>Nolesha made a gurgle of acknowledgement, then turned to Velire’s bed, muttering to herself. <em>“First stabilise the patient’s airway, breathing, and circulation…”</em></p><p>He settled by the door as Jolee and Nolesha hooked Velire up to a slew of monitoring devices—or those that still functioned, at least. Nothing he could do but watch, helpless, hands clenched and shoulders stiff, as they worked. Rolling up Velire’s sleeve, Nolesha pressed an injector into her arm, then set to stripping off her outer layers to cool her fever.</p><p>Carth looked away, jaw tight. Something about the sight itched at him, and he couldn’t just sit still and watch. Figuring he may as well put that restless feeling to good use, he returned to his patrol of the infirmary and its adjoining offices, finding no other survivors. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure whether he felt relief or disappointment. The Selkath were a threat, but they were also people who’d risked everything to help the Republic war effort.</p><p>Pushing back the niggling sense of guilt, Carth returned his focus to the here and now. The Republic needed to be apprised of the situation and re-establish some kind of control. Any other Selkath survivors would be as confused as Nolesha, and if any of them panicked—well, he’d already seen what they were capable of when pushed past all limits. It took more effort than Carth would’ve liked to quash the little kernel of seething resentment that the Selkath—Nolesha, even—had butchered the Republic personnel down here.</p><p>Carth halted in a quiet storeroom. With a glance over his shoulder to make sure Nolesha was out of earshot, he commed the Republic scientists they’d made contact with earlier. “Dr Nolan? Dr Roye? Do you copy?”</p><p>“Commander!” That was Sami Roye. “We read you. What happened on the seabed? We registered the detonation of the kolto harvester—”</p><p>“And the firaxa attacked the station again!” Nolan cut in.</p><p>Carth explained, “The harvester was destroyed and the shark appears to have left the vicinity. The circumstances surrounding its second sonic blast are unclear, but we’ve had contact with a Selkath who has returned to her full faculties.”</p><p>“What—?” Nolan spluttered.</p><p>Roye asked, “Did that second scream… undo the damage, then?”</p><p>“No, that can’t be right,” Nolan snapped. “Why would it just undo what it did and swim away? Don’t believe whatever you’re seeing. We trusted our Selkath colleagues, then when they turned on us, it was…”</p><p>Carth certainly couldn’t blame the man for that. “I understand it must’ve been terrible, Dr Nolan. Remain where you are, but don’t harm any of the Selkath unless you’re directly threatened. I’ll make contact with the surface and see about arranging an evacuation.”</p><p>“Thank you, Commander.” That was Roye. “I think I speak for both of us when I say we’re more than ready to see the surface again.”</p><p>Carth quietly returned to the main wing off the infirmary. He couldn’t quite bring himself to holster his blasters, especially not after Nolan’s warning, and he paused on the threshold to scan the room. Nolesha and Jolee were busy putting the infirmary to rights as best they could. The old man’s idea, most likely, to keep the doctor occupied with busywork. Carth knew he should find some way to send a report to the surface, but his gaze drifted back to Velire. He had taken several steps towards her before he consciously thought to move.</p><p>“And just what are you planning on doing, hmm?” Jolee all but materialised beside him. Despite his casual tone, his face was unreadable.</p><p>Carth stopped short. “You don’t think I would...”</p><p>Jole arched one bushy white eyebrow. “We now have the last Star Map. That’s all the Council wanted from her. From a certain point of view, one could argue she’s outlived her usefulness.”</p><p>A part of him bristled at the implication. “I’m not going to do anything, okay?”</p><p>“Of course you’re not, sonny.” Now Jolee’s tone was placating, and it set Carth on edge.</p><p>Feeling uneasy and more than a little irritated, Carth came to a halt beside Velire’s bed. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he surveyed her. Jolee had bundled his cloak under her head in a makeshift pillow, but the dark, rough fabric only made it all the more obvious that she was a complete mess. Her face was grey and shining with sweat, eyes darting under her eyelids while her body shook with muscle tremors. She shifted with restless energy, breaths harsh, somehow unable to find peace even in unconsciousness. Carth knew that if he checked, her pulse would be racing.</p><p>“What have you done to yourself?” he whispered.</p><p>Despite himself, something in his chest constricted. It was hardly the first time he’d seen Velire banged up and out for the count, but this time she seemed diminished, somehow. Worn down. Carth was struck by the sudden impulse to brush her hair out of her face, but he didn’t dare touch her. Not now. At his side, his hand curled and uncurled, fingers prickling.</p><p>For just a moment, he had to wonder—what had it been like for her, to discover what she was? He tried to picture it, learning that everything he knew was a lie. Telos, Morgana and Dustil, the wars. Every day with his family and, later, every lonely night.</p><p>And despite that, Velire had taken the time to save everyone she could in their quest for Manaan’s Star Map, up to and including the damn shark. Revan wouldn’t have taken the time to rescue kids from the Sith Embassy. Nor would she have risked being swallowed whole to save these Selkath from a fate worse than death. It was a thought that sat uneasily in his gut, like a hunk of permacrete, but he couldn’t dislodge it.</p><p>
  <em>Are you Velire? Or Revan?</em>
</p><p>There were no answers in her face. Only exhaustion.</p><p>A cold realisation unfolded over him, as harsh as it was unwelcome: he hadn’t been there when she’d been relying on him, and she’d almost broken herself.</p><p>A low groan snapped his attention back to the present. Velire’s fingers curled, and her eyelids fluttered. Carth immediately took a step back, glancing around the infirmary. “Jolee!”</p><p>As the old man practically materialised by her bedside, Carth meant to back off, but he was rooted to the spot, his feet ignoring any and all orders to turn away and leave Jolee to it. He couldn’t do anything but watch as she clawed her way back to consciousness, practically heaving herself onto her elbows before her eyes even opened.</p><p>Jolee put a hand on her shoulder, only for Velire to resist his attempt to push her down. “Relax, kid. We’re in the station’s infirmary. You got the Star Map, convinced the firaxa to leave, and saved the remaining survivors down here. Congratulations.”</p><p>Carth could see the whites of her eyes as she surveyed the room at large. Maybe it was just the less than stellar lighting, but for a moment she looked completely lost. “Right...”</p><p>“Which means you need to stay still for five minutes, dammit. I didn’t put all that effort into keeping your sorry backside alive only for you to fall out of bed and hit your head.”</p><p>“We have what we need,” Velire gritted out between harsh breaths. “Let’s go already.”</p><p>When she tried to shove off the bed, Carth grabbed her shoulder to hold her in place. Her eyes snapped to him. Recognition flitted across her face, closely followed by relief—then dismay. Ignoring the pulse of his own heartbeat, Carth kept a tight grip and refused to be dislodged when she tried to shake him off as well. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve been cleared by a doctor. Stop fighting.”</p><p>Velire stiffened. It took several moments before her eyes lifted to his, and the acid in her voice took him aback. “I don’t take orders from you, Commander.”</p><p>The use of his rank stung. All his conflicting feelings, balled up with nowhere to go, were eager for an outlet. “You rescinded the right to run this op when you passed out from a stim overdose.”</p><p>Velire couldn’t—or wouldn’t—meet his eye any longer, her expression mutinous. Carth wasn’t sure if it was lingering fever, but her cheeks had gone red.</p><p>“The situation is under control,” Carth continued into the silence. “So you’re going to hang tight until we get an evac. Understood?”</p><p>Her glare held enough venom to kill a gizka. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”</p><p><em>“No, you shall sleep now.”</em> Nolesha bustled onto the scene to block Velire from standing up. To Carth, she added, <em>“And you will stop aggravating my patient.”</em></p><p>Velire gaped at her, equal parts disbelief and awe in her eyes. “It... worked? It actually worked?”</p><p>Nolesha seized the opportunity to unceremoniously shove her back down on the infirmary bed. <em>“You must remain here for monitoring and treatment. Are you experiencing any chest pains?”</em></p><p>“I’m fine, but we have to go. I have the—” She cut herself off with a furtive glance at Nolesha, before shooting Jolee a beseeching look. “I can save Bastila, but we have to go <em>now.”</em></p><p>Nolesha watched with a thoughtful hum. <em>“Agitation is a common symptom of stimulant overdose. You must remain calm.”</em></p><p>“I don’t have time for that!” Velire’s face was dead white as her body shook. “Jolee, please. You know what’s at stake here!”</p><p>Even though her mouth was set in a familiar stubborn line, it was the desperate, almost manic, glint in her eye that was truly concerning. Maybe it was sheer determination holding her up or maybe it was the stims bringing a heightened sense of urgency—either way, Carth had his doubts whether she could be coaxed into accepting any medical advice or common sense.</p><p>Jolee’s expression remained even except for a slight deepening in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “One day won’t make a difference, kid. Especially if you give yourself a heart attack in the process. There’s a long list of nasty side effects attached to overdoses, and you’re not out of the asteroid field yet.”</p><p>“That—” She was panting now, sweat gleaming on her forehead. Losing momentum. “It doesn’t matter...”</p><p>Carth could see the exact moment she lost whatever tenuous grip she had on consciousness. Her eyes slid out of focus and with a soft sigh she sank slowly down onto the mattress. Nolesha and Jolee caught her and worked to get her settled again, the former administering a sedative to keep her quiet while the latter grumbled under his breath about stubborn children.</p><p>Carth let out a thin breath. He’d always known Velire was bantha-headed, but the sight of her face, grey and slack once more, made his gut curdle. No matter what, he couldn’t shake one thought in particular.</p><p>
  <em>You promised to protect her. And you failed.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carth halted outside Velire’s embassy quarters. He reached for the door panel, only for every thought to scatter like a pack of anoobas. Four days since their mission to Hrakert Station, three since their resulting trial, and he hadn’t glimpsed her even once. In that time, all Carth could think about was the look on her face when she’d thrown that Selkath into a wall. The slow-motion blink of the lights as her legs buckled emerging from the airlock. And then another airlock, slick and black with suffering, where Darth Malak drove her to her knees—and that led invariably back to Saul. Saul, whose final words landed with the force of a turbolaser round, once again robbing him of everything that mattered.</p><p>Irreconcilable thoughts spun over and over in Carth’s mind until they butted against the same permacrete wall, only for the cycle to start all over again. Velire somehow always managed to put his head on backwards, and now was no different. In any other situation, the thought might’ve been amusing.</p><p>She had to know he was lurking outside her door, so there was no point prolonging the inevitable. Carth drew in a breath and pressed the door chime. The panel remained an unblinking red for several excruciating seconds, then shifted to green. A thrill of nerves ran through him. The portal slid open, but nobody waited on the other side.</p><p>Carth blinked, taken aback by the absence of Velire’s defensive figure blocking the threshold. He searched the room. Her assigned quarters were virtually identical to his, allowing him to situate himself in moments: a spacious sitting area with an adjoining bedroom and refresher, all blankly pristine like any other hotel room in the galaxy. The door leading out the balcony was open, allowing a glimpse of a blue sky and a slender figure leaning on the railing. Since the <em>Leviathan</em>, she’d been little more than a wraith occupying the dark spaces in his peripheral. Pale and inconstant in the daytime. Always lurking in the back of his mind.</p><p>“Something you needed?” Her voice was perfectly even, suited to the fragile neutrality of Ahto City’s pristine halls, and Carth trusted it about as much as he trusted the ‘truce’ between Republic and Sith personnel in the streets below.</p><p>He approached slowly, as if Velire was a half-starved nexu. She didn’t so much as twitch in his direction, but he sensed the entirety of her attention land on him as he halted by the railing. Not too close.</p><p>His mouth went dry.</p><p>Past her shoulder, the day was high and clear, offering an unrivalled view of the silver sweep of Ahto City. The vista was broken only by the faint shimmer of a discreet energy shield around the balcony. Rimmed in the overbright glare, Velire seemed washed out, leaving her as substantial as a hologram. It gave her face an ashen cast, making the purple crescents pressed beneath her eyes all the more obvious. Her hair was scraped into a sloppy tail at her nape, leaving more than a few stray strands hanging limply around her jaw.</p><p>There was nothing of the woman he’d known in her face.</p><p>Carth cleared his throat. “It’s about time we talked, I think.”</p><p>For several long moments, Velire stared at him, <em>through </em>him. Carth fought a chill. Funny how he’d spent so long fearing that her gaze might turn cold, her corruption marked by an unholy yellow glee in her eyes. Now, her eyes were the same soft hazel he’d always known them—the only thing about her that could arguably be called soft—but there was a terrible emptiness in her gaze that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.</p><p>Somehow that was worse than anything he’d ever pictured.</p><p>“Of course.” Again with that dispassionate tone, more Jedi-like than Carth had ever heard from Velire. She drew in a breath. “I understand that this changes everything between us. I want you to know that I’ll see this through, and then neither you nor the Republic will ever have to worry about me again. This I promise you.”</p><p>Carth’s skin prickled. That emptiness spoke to a part of him—the part that had buried all feeling save the dogged need to hunt down Saul, when that was the only meaning his life had left. A dark kernel of suspicion took root in his mind. “Wait a second. What does that mean, exactly?”</p><p>“It means that I’ll do everything in my power to save Bastila and stop Malak. I have to make this right, however I can.”</p><p>“And then what?”</p><p>Velire looked away, past the city to the endless ocean. “And then... it’ll all be over.”</p><p>It took his brain several moments to catch up, then his chest felt suddenly tight. “You… you can’t be serious!”</p><p>Somehow her tone managed to drop several degrees. “I distinctly recall you once saying you’d like to put a blaster to Revan’s head.”</p><p>“That was— that was before I knew. Before either of us knew.”</p><p>Now Velire had no trouble meeting his gaze, chin raised, with a sardonic curl of her mouth. Her eyes glittered with challenge. “And what’s changed, besides the fact you now have the opportunity?”</p><p>The cool blue ocean wavered on the edges of his vision. His heart beat erratically with sudden panic, every instinct screaming at the looming threat of pain. <em>No. No. She can’t— </em></p><p>Choking down the knot in his throat, Carth snapped, “So that’s it, huh? All that talk about how I should live past Saul and here you are ready to throw your life away!”</p><p>Her eyes narrowed, expression turning flat with hostility. “Our situations are hardly the same.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? You think I don’t know what it’s like to pin your entire existence on righting a failure and expecting—<em>hoping</em>—it’ll take your life in the process, because it’s easier to martyr yourself than to live with the aftermath?”</p><p>Velire coiled on the spot with teeth bared, looking about ready to spit acid. “You don’t know a damn thing, Onasi!”</p><p>It wasn’t her sudden aggression that caught Carth off-guard, but the burning realisation that he’d hit the mark, more surely than either of them expected. And she was scared—no, terrified—of that. Past his own fear, he instead focused on the wet gleam in her eyes and the miserable curl of her mouth. “Look. I don’t know what it’s like to learn your entire life is a lie. But I know that Saul’s death didn’t bring me the peace I thought it would. This isn’t going to bring you any peace, either.”</p><p>This close, he could see the delicate play of light and shadow on Velire’s skin as her jaw tightened. “What do you want, Carth?”</p><p>Somehow it didn’t feel like an opening. He swallowed, scrounging for the right words. “I wanted to tell you that… I can’t hate you.”</p><p>Velire went still.</p><p>Carth said into the silence, “I wanted to hold you responsible for all the things you’ve done. For my wife, for Telos… for Dustil. But you helped save him, too. I’ve watched you act with compassion and integrity time and again, without ever hesitating.”</p><p>Her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. “Do… do you know how much blood is on my hands?”</p><p>“I do. And I also know that you don’t have to be Revan. You can be so much more. Whatever the Council did to you, they gave you that chance. I can only imagine the kind of hell your conscience is putting you through, but the fact that it is shows that you aren’t <em>her </em>anymore. That’s why I can’t hate you. Why I don’t want any more revenge.” Carth took a tentative half-step closer, careful not to crowd her. “All I can think of now is my promise to protect you from what’s to come.”</p><p>Velire looked down, her shoulders bowed under a weight he couldn’t begin to imagine. One hand tightened in a white-knuckled grip on the railing. “The woman you made that promise to doesn’t really exist.”</p><p>Carth reached out to cover her hand with his own. “Yes, she does, and I’m looking at her. You gave me a future, and I want to give you a future. With me.”</p><p>She recoiled, aghast. “You… you can’t do that!”</p><p>Carth flexed his fingers, trying not to fixate on the sudden stinging absence. “And why not?”</p><p>Velire shifted her weight, wrapping her arms around herself. “What do you think will happen when word gets out that war hero Carth Onasi threw his lot in with Darth Revan? What about your career?”</p><p>“I lost my family because I put my duty to the Republic before everything else. I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.”</p><p>For a fleeting moment, her gaze was filled with a wild, desperate longing. Then she looked away, swallowing hard, leaving Carth to wonder if he’d imagined it. “Even if I survive, the Jedi won’t let me go. And if the Republic learns of this? It’ll see me executed for war crimes!” She drew in a breath and raised her eyes, but only made it as far as his collar. “You deserve more than I could ever give you. I… I can’t let you do this to yourself.”</p><p>“That’s my call to make, isn’t it?” But Velire was already shaking her head. Unease crawled across his skin, along with the sense of an opportunity slipping through his fingers. He fumbled for the right words. “There’s going to come a time very soon when you’re going to have to make a choice, and there won’t be any turning back. I want you to make the right choice. I want to give you a reason to.”</p><p>Her breath caught. “Carth…”</p><p>“Forget duty, forget obligation, forget all of it… what do <em>you </em>want?”</p><p>Velire’s breath hitched, dangerously close to a sob. “I… I want to go back in time, to when I was just a smuggler turned Jedi prodigy, Bastila was haranguing me about something I thought was ridiculous, the crew was unified, and you and I…”</p><p>Feeling like he was walking dangerously close to a cliff’s edge, Carth closed the remaining distance between them and ran his thumb along her cheek. She let him, transfixed, all breath caught in her chest. “I can’t turn back time, beautiful. None of us can. But there’s a future out there for us, and I can only hope you want it as much as I do. I... I think I could love you, if you give me the chance.”</p><p>Her answer was little more than a broken whisper. “I think I could love you, too.”</p><p>Funny how those simple words could have an astronomical impact, shifting the fabric of the galaxy around him—an inevitable circling back to the truth, like the stars wheeling across the sky. Velire reached for him and Carth reached back, caught in an inexorable pull towards her again. One that he didn’t even attempt to fight.</p><p>Touching her now, she felt abruptly real again: cold hands roaming his back, body wracked with shuddering breaths, her head pressing into the crook of his neck. She leaned against him, heavy with fatigue. Carth wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.</p><p>He was content to just hold her. The distant, dreamlike motion of the ocean was the only indication that time hadn’t stopped completely. He could feel the numb cold melting away from them both, every star that had been knocked out of alignment now settling back into place.</p><p>Carth kissed the top of her head. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”</p><p>Her hands fisted in his jacket and she pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye. “Say my name.”</p><p>He did without hesitation. “Velire.”</p><p>She searched his face. “Say it again.”</p><p>Smoothing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Carth let his fingers linger on her cheek. He met the spark of wild, desperate hope burning in her eyes. “Velire.” Closing the gap between them, he brushed his lips against hers. “Velire…”</p><p>She trembled against him. There was a brittleness to the way she held herself, so Carth didn’t linger. Drawing back, he ran a thumb along her jaw. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, beautiful.”</p><p>Velire swallowed roughly. “That might be a lot.”</p><p>“Then I’ll say it a lot.”</p><p>Any lingering resistance melted out of her. She looped her arms around his neck and let him support her weight. Carth held her close, fiercely wishing that this alone could heal her wounds. But even if a Force-induced identity crisis was beyond his ability to fix, maybe it would be enough to push back the deepest shadows that coiled around her. Waiting for their chance.</p><p>Velire sniffled. “Stars, I’m such a mess…”</p><p>Carth ran a comforting hand down her back. “When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”</p><p>“I…” Her hesitation was answer enough.</p><p>Steering Velire inside, Carth led her to the bedroom. He couldn’t help but notice the sheets were perfectly crisp. “Come on. You take a nap while I sort out a decent meal—”</p><p>“Wait!” Her hand manacled his wrist, eyes flashing with panic. “Please don’t go.”</p><p>After a brief internal war, Carth relented. As much as Velire needed food, she looked about ready to snap in half at the slightest pressure. “All right. I’m not going anywhere. But you do need to get some rest.”</p><p>Velire let him settle her on the bed, but made sure to pull him down with her. A fair trade-off, in his opinion. Shucking his boots, Carth leaned back against the headboard and wrapped an arm around her as she curled against him. Her hair slid loose from the tie at a gentle touch, and Carth ran a hand through her hair, drawing gentle circles on her scalp with his fingertips.</p><p>Velire slid an arm around his waist and closed her eyes. “Will you be here when I wake up?”</p><p>“I will. Promise.”</p><p>She sighed, the sound carrying equal amounts of relief and exhaustion. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”</p><p>Carth tightened his hold on her. “No more apologies, okay? We’ll figure all this out.”</p><p>Velire made a low noise that could have been agreement or fatigue, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Carth kissed her hair, then rested his chin on the top of her head. As her breathing evened out, he found his thoughts likewise slowing. Past all the noise, past all the fear, he could at last step out of the shadow of the <em>Leviathan</em>. Saul’s final betrayal no longer had any power over him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A composite of the Star Maps’ data was arranged innocuously across the holopane. For the fifth time in as many minutes, Velire focused the entirety of her attention on the Star Forge coordinates, letting the blinking distractions of the security room fall away until all that remained were strokes of light across the screen, divorced from all context or meaning.</p>
<p>Once, she’d known what waited at those coordinates.</p>
<p>A part of Velire still shied away from that fact, even as she tried to conjure a memory, a vision, anything. Her vision snapped out of focus, blurring the map to an overbright smear of colour. Fighting a sigh, Velire closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to the delicate pulsing ache above her left eyebrow. All she’d accomplished so far was giving herself a headache.</p>
<p>Only three days remained until they dropped out of hyperspace, and a sombre pall had fallen over the <em>Ebon Hawk </em>as the crew retreated into their final preparations. Since their final stop on Yavin Station for some last-minute supplies, Juhani had taken to meditating when she wasn’t training. Jolee had reorganised the medbay twice and taken charge of meal preparation, citing some strange tale about a band of heroes starving after a grand victory because no one thought to bring a chef with them. Canderous roped Carth into running through drills, so focused that their banter lacked its usual edge. Mission volunteered to help with any and every task, and Carth redirected her nervous energy to the co-pilot’s seat. Zaalbar, meanwhile, was making grenades and taking inventory.</p>
<p>Velire herself spent most of her time checking and rechecking all of her equipment. One of her purchases from Yavin had been a cyan kyber crystal unlike anything she’d ever seen before, and she’d wasted no time setting it in one of her lightsabers. The saber now hummed with a cool energy in her grip, offering a modicum of fortitude. Right now, she’d take whatever she could get.</p>
<p>Velire couldn’t help but wonder what had happened the last time she was about to discover the Star Forge. Surely Revan and Malak hadn’t bled off any agitation through training or jokes or simple companionship. They’d likely been beyond friendship by that point, bound only in a shared quest for power and whatever withering loyalty remained between them.</p>
<p>Soft footfalls echoed down the corridor, heralding an unmistakable presence on the edge of her senses. “Beautiful, what are you still doing up?”</p>
<p>Velire sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Just… going over the Star Map data.” Again.</p>
<p>There was movement behind her, followed by the soft hiss of the door sliding closed. Carth wound his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. After a moment, Velire rested her hands over his and leaned back against him, letting him support her weight. In the past week, they’d touched more often than in the last eight months combined. Carth’s casual affection took some getting used to: a hand settling on her waist, or a thumb gently probing at a knot in her back, or fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. All completely idle. She had to marvel that despite all that she was, he still offered her <em>this</em>.</p>
<p>Velire hadn’t yet figured out whether it was security or fear that drove these moments.</p>
<p>“We’re committed,” Carth reminded her. “There’s no turning back from here.”</p>
<p>“I know. I just…” She grimaced. “If I’m— if I have these memories, they may as well make themselves useful, right?”</p>
<p>A thread of tension ran through him. His voice was a low rumble against her back, like the first bite of thunder echoing across an empty plain. “That’s a door you don’t want to open.”</p>
<p>“We have no idea what’s waiting for us. If there’s something locked away in my head that could make a difference, that could help us save Bastila—”</p>
<p>“Lire.”</p>
<p>Despite everything, the word sent a little thrill through her. It was a proclamation. A soft defiance. A vote of confidence. Somehow when he said that name, she was able to believe that was who she could be.</p>
<p>Carth continued, “We’ve made it this far, even though we were flying blind.” Before Velire could protest, he amended, “Mostly blind. Those visions gave us a clue, but we still figured it out on our own. We’ll figure this out, too.”</p>
<p>A grim amusement wormed through her at the word <em>visions</em>. It was a courteous, if utterly naive, way to refer to them. Worse than naive, to willfully ignore the lingering shadows at the edges of her being.</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“I hate to break it to you, sister, but military campaigns don’t normally revolve around any premonitions. Trying to trigger more of these visions… it isn’t worth the cost. And you shouldn’t have to pay it.”</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t I?”</p>
<p>A hard edge crept into his tone. “No. You shouldn’t.”</p>
<p>The truth lurked somewhere between them, in the silence of what neither of them were willing to say: that she wouldn’t be the only one to pay the price if the memories brought back more than she bargained for. Even so, Velire couldn’t help but feel a sense of obligation. It was a duty of sorts—stars, the Council had hoped to use her for this very purpose, to access the knowledge locked in her mind for the Republic’s benefit. She would be a fool to pretend that wasn’t the very reason she’d been assigned to this mission. Why she’d been spared at all.</p>
<p>Then again, wasn’t that what Revan and Malak had told themselves, once? That they had to take risks—make sacrifices—for the greater good? Didn’t each step bring a new justification for the suffering they wrought, until even their rationalisations were dead?</p>
<p>Sensing her ambivalence, Carth added, “You’re not alone in this fight. Don’t forget that.”</p>
<p>Resisting a sigh, Velire focused on his steady bulk at her back and the feel of his hands under hers. “You’re right.”</p>
<p>The exhale that tickled her ear was too heavy for a simple breath but too light to be a sigh of relief. “It’s been a long ride, I know, but we actually have a chance of stopping Malak now.”</p>
<p>Velire fought a flinch. Even now, she shied away from thinking about Malak, when that would make everything real. “Don’t forget rescuing Bastila.”</p>
<p>It was easy to fixate on Bastila, fuelled by both the desperate worry of a bondmate and the ruthless fact that she was too vital a war asset to leave in Malak’s hands. Saving a sister Jedi was a noble goal, worthy of any adherent to the light.</p>
<p>Malak, however, was history. <em>Her </em>history. Friend turned apprentice turned betrayer. Killing him wouldn’t even cleanse her sins; Revan was guilty of far more than merely unleashing Malak on the galaxy. And all paths after Malak led back to Coruscant, where the shining institutions of the Republic and the Jedi heralded certain imprisonment. Or worse.</p>
<p>“No one’s forgotten Bastila or what she did for you and me on the <em>Leviathan</em>. We’ll find her.” Behind her, Carth tensed. Velire wondered why until he continued carefully, “Have you felt anything from the bond since...?”</p>
<p>Unbidden, an arc of lightning flashed across her mind’s eye, accompanied by the stench of fear and cooking flesh. White-hot restraints burned her wrists and ankles. All the while an outstretched hand promised to take the pain away…</p>
<p>Velire shook her head in hope of dislodging the image, but something chastised her for turning away from even a fraction of Bastila’s suffering. “Nothing.”</p>
<p>Carth tightened his hold. “We’ll get her back.”</p>
<p>“We have to. I owe her my life twice over.”</p>
<p>Carth rested his chin against her temple. “I think I owe her an apology… and a thank you.”</p>
<p>Velire chuckled once. “I don’t know how Bastila managed to deal with me. I certainly didn’t make life easy for her.”</p>
<p>“You know, I thought the Council sending you out half-trained was unfair to you, but the burden they put on her…”</p>
<p>“You mean babysitting a bratty, amnesiac Sith Lord?”</p>
<p>Despite himself, Carth snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”</p>
<p>Velire sought another rejoinder, but couldn’t keep the tenuous thread of humour going. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back and make this right.”</p>
<p>Curling a finger under her chin, Carth turned her head so he could search her face. Lights from the nearby consoles reflected cold silver in his eyes, obscuring whatever emotion lingered beneath. “Promise me you won’t go looking for more visions. No matter what.”</p>
<p>An immediate objection sprang to Velire’s lips. Some deep-seated instinct resisted the idea of ignoring a potential advantage. She waited until the impulse faded, so she could answer honestly when she said, “I promise.”</p>
<p>Carth’s sheer relief made her stomach twist. Velire had to look away, back to the coordinates in front of her.</p>
<p>He gently nudged her. “Hey. We’ll get through this like we always do.”</p>
<p>“I’ll feel a lot better when this is over.”</p>
<p>“Me too. Between the Mandalorian Wars and this Sith war, it’s hard to remember what peace ever felt like.” Carth ducked his head and she felt the scratch of his stubble against her neck. “But I have to say, I’m feeling a hell of a lot better about our chances now than I was about a year ago.” He smiled against her skin, then pressed a kiss just under her jaw.</p>
<p>Velire closed her eyes and tilted her head to grant him easier access to her neck, trembling at the next brush of his lips. It was beyond unfair that he could stir the softest warmth in her chest, like Dantooine’s spring sun bathing her in its honeyed glow, or that the heat of his arms could ward off the black despair that slithered across her shoulders. She couldn’t fathom the twist of the Force that had brought them together, here, now, dragged into a trajectory they could neither halt nor escape.</p>
<p>Carth was a career man through and through. The stakes of the upcoming battle couldn’t be lost on him. And although her own memories were those of a smuggler, she found the weight of duty was a familiar burden. She was prepared to do what she had to, because she had to, and she hoped Carth would understand that.</p>
<p>“Carth.” Velire drew in a careful breath. “If I don’t make it…”</p>
<p>He tightened his hold on her. It felt almost like a flinch. “Don’t.”</p>
<p>“Carth, please—”</p>
<p>“Lire, don’t.”</p>
<p>She tried to turn to face him, only for his arms to pin her in place. “This is serious—”</p>
<p>His voice was rough in her ear. Harsh. “We aren’t doing this, because you’re walking out of this mission alive. Got it?”</p>
<p>Velire wished more than anything that she could promise him that. For all Carth’s talk of the future, they both knew better than to dream with detail what any sort of <em>after</em> between them could look like. Velire couldn’t bring herself to assume she would even be around to see the Republic recover. Not when she could sense every thread of her fate weaving into a single cord, drawing her ever-slowly to the Star Forge. Had the Masters not sensed it on Dantooine, what felt like a lifetime ago? And she knew—they all knew—that there was no denying the will of the Force.</p>
<p>Now Carth spun her around to face him, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. “Don’t tell me you’re still planning on throwing your life away?”</p>
<p>Velire swallowed hard at the raw, blade-sharp desperation in his eyes. “I’m not. But I can’t assume I’m going to survive this, either. Anything could happen when we drop out of hyperspace.”</p>
<p>His face hardened. “Then promise me you’ll do everything in your power to make it back.”</p>
<p>Velire cradled his face in her hands, her thumbs smoothing across his cheeks. Carth caught one of her hands to press a kiss against her palm. Closing her eyes, she relished the warmth blooming between them and hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last moments they had together. “I’ll do my best.”</p>
<p>“You better.” Then, softer: “It’s going to be okay. Promise.”</p>
<p>Velire couldn’t help but look again at the Star Forge coordinates, knowing to the very atoms of her being that the countdown until their expected drop from hyperspace was all the time she had left before she met her fate. Whether it was duty or destiny, she had to be ready to meet it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the Star Forge’s observation deck, cyan and red danced as lightsabers clashed. Velire pushed past the pain of the screaming burn on her forearm to block Malak’s next strike. Despite their earlier encounter on the <em>Leviathan</em>, she was almost taken aback by Malak’s ferocity. Every blow landed with immense force, the baleful red glow of his lightsaber throwing odd shadows across his intimidating figure. Velire’s shoulders had since gone numb, her wrists screaming with every strike she blocked. Her last energy shield had already flickered and died, leaving her exposed to his terrifying reach. But he also knew to be wary of her swift feet and swifter strikes, and so they continued their lethal dance. A single lapse and either one of them would be swept away.</p><p>Past Malak’s shoulder, the abyss was on fire. The distant field of stars was blotted out by the bulk of two fleets colliding in a silent cacophony, fragmenting into starlit shrapnel. Beams of cannon fire chased each other across the shrinking no being’s land, punctuated by silent explosions as more vessels were condemned to the black. Despite its earlier losses, the Republic forces encroached on the sprawling Sith battle lines, heedless of the remains of their fellows that they sailed through.</p><p>The Star Forge itself seemed to take umbrage with the assault. As Velire had encroached on the molten heart of the Forge, she’d sensed its dark presence like a night-sea fog silently lapping at the edges of her senses. She’d been exposed to places of dark power before—the Star Map ruins, Korriban, even the planet below—but not like this. The Star Forge was something… more. A ravenous power which seethed around her, as cold as any other dark-touched place yet somehow sweeter. Familiar.</p><p>It was hungry—and it recognised her.</p><p>The longer the fight went on, the harder it was to resist the Forge’s bittersweet song. The power Malak commanded was a monstrous thing, lashing out with the terrorising force of a maelstrom. It tore through the chamber, almost beyond Velire’s ability to block, bolstered by the energy he siphoned from captive Jedi. Some of the faces she recognised from a lifetime ago on Dantooine. Worse, Malak naturally channelled the chaos and viciousness of Juyo, striking with sudden, erratic blows designed to overwhelm her defence. For all the form’s inelegance, it easily countered her own precise Makashi strikes.</p><p>Their blades locked, casting a multi-hued glow around them. Malak’s voice cut across the hiss of their lightsabers, imbued with cold fury. “Do you truly believe you’ve been redeemed, Revan?”</p><p>Velire bared her teeth in a savage smile. “Are my eyes yellow?”</p><p>“The darkness and the light wage a constant war within you. The balance is tipped one way now, but it can easily be tipped back!”</p><p>Velire sucked in a breath. She struggled to keep her focus and channel the light, smoothing away the staccato burst of her emotions. “Not today.”</p><p>Malak made an amused noise. “The more pertinent question is whether you truly believe the Jedi will accept your prodigal return. They only let you live because you’re a useful pawn!”</p><p>“Why, Malak, you almost sound angry on my behalf!”</p><p>“Hah!” He raised a hand and she was hurled away, her back connecting with a support strut.</p><p>Blinking away the stars dancing before her eyes, she found Malak—not approaching for the kill, but retreating across the deck. Seconds swam by in confusion before she realised he was heading for one of the captive Jedi.</p><p>Forcing herself to her feet, Velire called her sabers back to her hands and pursued. Before she could close the distance between them, Malak lifted a hand to consume what remained of the Jedi’s life force. A renewed energy flowed through him, and she fought some choice invective. Her own strength was flagging.</p><p>Another cool tendril touched her mind, offering its own sweet restoration.</p><p>Teeth bared, Velire flung herself headlong towards Malak. If she kept up the pressure, he would have fewer chances to unleash Force powers on her. But that meant contending with his terrifying reach; he could strike before she closed the gap, forcing her on the defensive.</p><p>As their sabers crashed together, Malak bore down on her with all the immutable force of a planet. “How does it feel to be nothing more than a vessel of the Council’s will? To be set against yourself? Do you know what we sacrificed to build our empire?”</p><p>Gritting her teeth, Velire shoved back with all her strength. “Our humanity.”</p><p>Malak laughed. At her words or her effort, she didn’t know. “More than that.”</p><p>Velire took stock of her surroundings. Only one prison device remained, its nameless victim hanging listless in a shimmering field. Drawing in a breath, she shifted her stance and focused on Malak.</p><p>
  <em>All right. Let’s dance.</em>
</p><p>With a Force-bolstered heave, Velire feinted to the right and the fight raged on. She let Malak drive her back, switching to a defensive stance to evade his would-be lethal blows, and edged along the gantry until the final prison was in range. Calling the Force to her, she struck his mind with stunning force and hurled a lightsaber at the device. Her violet blade carved through the prison, destroying it in a shower of sparks. The Jedi dropped like a marionette with severed strings, and Velire felt the briefest rush as he became one with the Force—</p><p>A red lightsaber sliced across her vision, and she barely dodged it before Malak finished what he’d started on the <em>Leviathan</em>. But she was off-balance and he pressed his advantage, crashing through her defences with a blast of the Force that hit like a chunk of permacrete. The deck whirled by as the burst knocked her back several metres, and she barely managed to keep ahold of her remaining lightsaber. Landing with a heavy thunk, she gasped for air. Stars danced across her vision.</p><p>Malak stalked across the gantry, each boot step like a crack of thunder heralding his approach. He towered over her, an imposing statue of red and black, eyes gleaming with disturbing glee. “I’m disappointed, Revan. You’ve been a thorn in my side for so long… and this is the best you can do?”</p><p>Velire struggled to sit upright. “You can kill me, but you can’t win. The Forge is lost!”</p><p>“You’re right—I can kill you.” The tip of his lightsaber hissed mere centimetres away from her jaw, suffusing her vision with a hot, seething crimson. “I’ve waited for years to repay you in kind.”</p><p>Her pulse thudded in her ears as she stared up at him. Past the malevolent red glow of his saber, she could see light reflecting off his metal jaw. Her mouth went dry.</p><p>
  <em>Think fast.</em>
</p><p>Beyond Malak, her violet lightsaber rested on the gantry. Meeting his gaze, Velire twitched one hand behind her back. Her saber ignited with a hiss, sailing towards his back. Sensing the oncoming strike, he sprang away. It was enough for her to push to her feet, catching her weapon.</p><p>The battle lines changed again. Velire hung back, hoping to make him expend energy approaching her, only to be assailed by a gravity-heaving push. This time she planted her feet and endured the blow, if only just. But Velire realised her mistake as she had to spring away from his next attack. There was no way she could close on him while evading or absorbing the slew of Force powers he slung in her direction. When a twist of gravity tried to sweep her into a whirlwind, she let it loft her into the air as she sprang away, landing half-crouched on the gantry railing.</p><p>Malak’s metallic laughter danced across the deck. “Are you going to strike me down from all the way over there, Revan? Such power you have!”</p><p>Velire vaulted off the railing as it warped with a shriek. But as her boots hit the deck, she found herself snared.</p><p>The Force roiled around her, sweeping her off the ground as her limbs locked. Her head wrenched back, almost snapping her neck. All sense of direction scattered in the writhing mass of power crushing her. Her fingers clawed the air as an implacable force bore down on every joint in her body. Her ribs creaked; one cracked, then another.</p><p>Velire shoved back with all her might, but the field swallowed her attempt with barely a ripple. Distantly, she could hear Malak laughing.</p><p>Eyes squeezed shut, she forced herself to focus on his voice. Stretching her senses, she sought something— anything—</p><p>There. A tremor in the field, to her right. Twitching her fingers, Velire arrowed all her power into the sudden weak spot. The field shuddered and gave way, flinging her sideways, and she dropped to the ground with a bone-shuddering thunk. Even with black spots crawling across her vision, she could sense his furious presence approaching.</p><p>The looming threat bolstered her enough to force herself to stand. Legs trembling, breaths short, she knew the fight couldn’t continue much longer. In the half-second of quiet, she looked up to see Malak’s monstrous silhouette backlit by the raging battle outside. He was favouring one leg.</p><p>Velire marshalled her strength for a final charge. Air whipped past her face as she launched herself forward, lightsabers extended, barely avoiding his red blade—</p><p>An explosion rocked below-deck, followed by a tearing shriek. The Star Forge itself shuddered away from the blow, reverberating through the spine of the station. The gantry crumpled beneath their feet as Velire collided with Malak. He buckled at the force of the blow and then they were both falling.</p><p>The world lost all sense of direction save the roar of emergency klaxons. Momentum smashed her into a piece of the collapsing gantry, then she was tumbling, colliding against falling debris. Every strike landed with bruising force, until the final impact punched any remaining air from her lungs. The world grew heavy around her. Her vision muddied.</p><p>Sound filtered to her ears through a great, watery distance, and she swam towards the source. Pain was the first feeling to return—sharp, sudden, choking. Suffusing her entire body.</p><p>Forcing her eyes open, it took several moments for the distant ceiling to come into focus. Gasping, she rolled onto her side. There was something she had to do. Something important—</p><p>Velire’s fingers brushed the warm hilt of one lightsaber, and the world snapped back into focus. She was lying on the lower tier of the chamber amid the wreckage of the gantry. The stench of smoke and heated alloys poured through the station’s ventilation systems. Quiet gasping broke the silence, matching each pulse of pain in her chest. Her own breaths, she realised.</p><p>Velire looked up and saw Malak sprawled nearby, a mess of torn armour plating and shredded skin. The black gash she’d carved across his chest still smoked. A lancing piece of debris jutted out of his hip.</p><p>Sucking in a rattling breath, Velire summoned the last of her strength to drag herself to Malak’s side. An instinctual urge, perhaps, written into her nerves from a past life. One she didn’t attempt to fight.</p><p>He watched her in silence, then looked to the expansive viewport where the battle still raged. The furious glow of the sun below cast harsh highlights across the underbellies of the vessels. Even if the outcome was a foregone conclusion, the Sith forces fought with spite to inflict as much damage as possible before screaming into the void. Pinpoints of light reflected in Malak’s yellow eyes as he watched. Velire was close enough to see the hatred extinguished from his gaze.</p><p>Malak’s voice was a low, metallic rasp. “So this is how it ends…”</p><p>Her mouth was dry and sticky. Thick with the taste of metal. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”</p><p>He made a low noise that could have been amusement or scorn. “How ironic that you, who led me down this path, would be the one to end it. Seeing you now… I wonder if I could have done as much in your stead, had fate decreed that I be captured by the Jedi. Could I have returned to the light as you did?”</p><p>Velire’s gaze trailed again over his injuries. There was nothing she could do, even if every drop of her power hadn’t already been wrung out of her. “Maybe. But in the end, we all decide our own path. You and I… we always had choices.”</p><p>He was quiet for a long moment. “Perhaps… perhaps you have changed, then. You always told me we would do what we had to, because we had to.”</p><p>“Maybe I was wrong.”</p><p>A bitter sigh rattled through his vocaliser. “No? In striking me down, have you not done what you must, because you must?”</p><p>Velire looked away. “Perhaps.”</p><p>All at once, the agony in her chest ratcheted up, spearing down her spine and through her gut. She shifted in the hope of easing the pain. Another groan echoed through the Star Forge, followed by the sensation of icy fingers dragging along the back of her neck.</p><p>Velire clenched her jaw and surveyed the scene outside. It wouldn’t be long now. She drew in a breath, hoping to distract herself from the grasping numbness. “How… how did we meet?”</p><p>Malak was silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, quietly: “As younglings. I came to the Jedi after the Mandalorians destroyed my homeworld. When you arrived, I knew you had lost everything, too. We were inseparable. Fools that we were…”</p><p>Velire said nothing, her throat swollen shut.</p><p>“I’ve hated you for years, but… you were my sister in all but blood.”</p><p>She breathed in. Bit her tongue until she tasted hot red. “I don’t remember you. I don’t remember any of it.”</p><p>Malak grunted. “A blessing or a curse, I wonder…”</p><p>A canorous rumble shuddered through the deck. Outside the viewport, the remaining Republic forces were moving into position to bombard the station. Velire wondered where her crew was. If Bastila had retreated to the <em>Ebon Hawk </em>now that the tide had irrevocably shifted.</p><p>Malak’s wheezing voice broke through her reverie. “Should you wish to bask in your victory, you should—” He broke off, coughing. The metallic sound clawed across her skin. “Leave now.”</p><p>Velire looked down at her body—bruised, battered, broken. Her insides felt like they’d been squeezed almost to bursting, her limbs dipped in acid. She couldn’t breathe without sharp stabbing pain.</p><p>There was no walking away. Not for her.</p><p>“Our reign as dark lords… it began here. Let it end here.”</p><p>That stoked the dying embers in his eyes. His fingers twitched weakly. “Our empire… was…”</p><p>“Was what? Malak?”</p><p>But his eyes slid out of focus, hand limp at his side. A soft exhale, then, finally, silence.</p><p>Velire bowed her head, eyes itching.</p><p>
  <em>There is no death; there is the Force.</em>
</p><p>She drew in a breath, feeling more than hearing the ragged sound in her chest—slightly wet, accompanied by a snap of pain through her ribs. Faint sounds echoed off the cavernous ceiling, but she was otherwise alone with the slice of space visible through the viewport. Beyond the carnage orbiting the station, the stars twinkled gently.</p><p>Velire closed her eyes. Consigned to the black of space—perhaps it was a kind fate for a traitor. She wondered, distantly, if she would follow Malak before or after the Republic bombarded the Star Forge into oblivion. There was a certain irony that when she was no longer set on making a final sacrifice, the choice was taken from her.</p><p>The frigid, seething power of the Star forge seemed to swell from the deck to suffuse her, smother her. Velire gasped in the black tide. Even at the end, when it no longer mattered, she didn’t want to give in. Didn’t want to disappoint her crew. Her mental defences were in tatters, but she found herself thinking of the <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s gentle lights and the warm thrum of its hyperdrive. Of its corridors bustling with life as familiar as her own heartbeat. Of a scene that played just a few hours ago, a lifetime ago, against a backdrop of teal surf glittering with diamonds. <em>I can’t wait until all this is over with—</em></p><p>Teeth bared, eyes stinging, Velire lifted herself onto one elbow. Her ribs shrieked with the effort, her body trembling under the strain, then her arm collapsed beneath her weight. White-hot pain crashed through her, every nerve ending on fire, and she felt more than heard the scream that tore from her throat.</p><p>Rolling onto her side, Velire waited for the stars to dissipate before making another attempt. This time she could barely lift her head as pain lanced down her spine. Vertigo made her head spin.</p><p>Fighting a whimper, she closed her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry, flyboy.</em>
</p><p>A clench of pain in her chest, somewhere to the left of her heart. That scene from the beach was an overbright dream made hazy with a fragile hope she could no longer recognise. A promise she couldn’t keep when fate led her to a place he could not follow.</p><p>He would understand, even if he didn’t want to.</p><p>The darkness expanded again, this time a gentler black than the hungry maw that threatened to swallow her whole. The protests of her body slid away.</p><p>And then, pain. A crystalline shriek of white-hot fury tore through her skull. <em>What are you doing?!</em></p><p>It took too much energy to fumble for words. <em>Bastila…? </em></p><p>Panic bolted through the bond, adrenaline-sharp.<em> The Republic is in bombardment range. The Forge is crumbling!</em></p><p>The blade-sharp echo of Bastila’s fear sliced through the shroud of peace that had settled over her.<em> I… I won’t be able to make it out in time. You need to go.</em></p><p>Velire’s head ached as Bastila none-too-gently tore through her latest memories. <em>All your talk of redemption—a ploy to use me for the Republic’s benefit, then?</em></p><p>
  <em>What? No! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then prove it. Get. Up.</em>
</p><p>Velire sucked in a breath, cradling that ember of renewed defiance. She tried to move, but an avalanche of stars consumed her vision. Another lance of pain washed through her limbs in a wave of pins and needles. Velire groaned. With effort, she could drag a hand to her waist, hunting for some forgotten supply in the pouches of her utility belt. Anything. No medkit; she’d left that with Bastila. But her fingers brushed over one stim left from Canderous.</p><p>With a trembling hand, Velire yanked the syringe free and shoved it into her thigh. Her chest tightened, head filling with stars.</p><p>Somehow she managed to roll to her knees, shoving up from the deck on shaking arms that barely held her weight. Her stiff legs groaned, agony shooting along her ribs. Still, she made it to her feet.</p><p>With a final glance toward Malak, she staggered for the exit.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry, brother.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Special thanks to ScorpioSkies for helping with this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The waves of reinforcements felt endless. The Star Forge was certainly living up to its reputation as a factory as the churn of bootsteps and blaster fire echoed through the sterile halls. Carth gritted his teeth and fired at an advancing squad of Sith troopers, their armour marking them as an elite unit. It felt like this engagement had dragged on for hours already, marked by piling bodies on the floor and the pungent stench of charred flesh. If the troopers were bothered stepping over the remains of their fellows, they didn’t show it.</p>
<p>The <em>Ebon Hawk</em>’s crew were currently holding position alongside the Jedi strike team at the top of a grand, tiered concourse with gantries weaving in all directions. After the door to the command centre had slammed in their faces, it had taken every last ounce of willpower that Carth possessed to turn away, the distant hum of lightsabers crawling over his skin, telling himself that Velire would win. She’d find a way to save Bastila. Or stop Bastila.</p>
<p>And while she did that, he’d keep the rest of their crew alive. It helped, if only a little, to look around and see that the rest of the crew were just as unhappy with the situation as he was. Canderous sported an impressive scowl as he vented his frustration on any troopers unfortunate enough to be in range of his repeater. Zaalbar howled his fury, landing precise shots with his bowcaster. Carth glimpsed Mission’s silent scowl in his peripheral, and the lingering tightness glimmering in Jolee and Juhani’s eyes. T3-M4 remained unruffled, but HK-47 spat insults at any enemies in hearing range before he engaged his flamethrowers.</p>
<p>For his part, Carth kept replaying the scene over and over in his mind, hunting for the moment he should have acted faster. Done something. He could see Velire pausing after they’d cleared the lower level of the command centre, her gaze sliding to the chamber’s upper door.</p>
<p>“Bastila’s waiting for me,” she’d said, voice soft.</p>
<p>They’d known. They’d known and still only had the briefest moment as the door cycled open, revealing an expansive array of viewscreens monitoring the space battle—and a slender shadow kneeling on the floor, her form wreathed in cold light. Then the CIC had slammed shut, trapping Velire inside with no backup.</p>
<p>Carth couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he should have taken the time for one last goodbye. They hadn’t spoken of the upcoming battle. Or of the stakes. Just one kiss on the beach, another after the <em>Hawk </em>settled in the Star Forge’s hangar bay, and a long moment of shared silence.</p>
<p>Carth shook his head, dislodging the errant thought. No. That wouldn’t be the last he ever saw of her. Velire had leapt into an outrageous array of dangers and always emerged victorious—as had Revan before her. For the first time, Carth found himself grateful that Velire possessed Revan’s tremendous power. If anyone could survive this, she could.</p>
<p>The Star Forge was a colossal structure, featuring seemingly endless production bays overseen from a network of catwalks, and the Sith had every advantage in their home territory. Carth risked a glance out of cover as yet another Sith squad poured through an adjoining corridor.</p>
<p>He recognised the thunk landing beside him, barely had the time to yell, “Grenade—!”</p>
<p>Jolee whipped around with a speed Carth hadn’t known the old man possessed. He’d barely sent the frag sailing back the way it came before a searing burst made the world reel for several dangerous moments. Blinking away ghostly afterimages, Carth shook himself out.</p>
<p>
  <em>Too close.</em>
</p>
<p>Carth had fought under the influence of Bastila’s battle meditation before. To him, it was usually nothing more than absurd luck and a battle high that brought perfect clarity, but now he felt his confidence flagging despite knowing, objectively, that it was all in his head. It felt like he could barely aim straight, let alone plan tactics on the fly—but he had to, or else his team was dead.</p>
<p>There was no forgetting the magnitude of the battle roaring around them. Endless klaxons signposted their presence; worse, the Star Forge boasted enough personnel to investigate every security alert, real or false. In the bowels of the station, the Forge’s war machine churned on, maybe constructing the very droids that now were chasing them across the decks alongside a seemingly endless supply of troops. He could only hope that with all eyes on the strike team, the demolition squad making its way to the Star Forge’s reactor core would have an easier time. Admiral Dodonna was taking no chances, not when there was a very real chance that the Republic forces wouldn’t be able to break through the Sith line.</p>
<p>Pushing past the lingering sense of dread, Carth barked orders for Zaalbar and Jolee to prioritise the grenadier. A glance over his shoulder confirmed Mission and T3-M4 were still slicing a nearby terminal to cause as much mechanical mayhem as possible and send false breach alerts to other parts of the station. If the line broke, those two would be sitting mynocks.</p>
<p>The three doors flanking the concourse may as well have been maws opening directly to the factory floors, spitting out wave after wave of organic and robotic foe alike. Carth cursed as yet more Sith forced their way onto the concourse, cutting scorching red lines through the cavernous chamber with their blaster rifles. He pushed aside the sinking feeling in his gut as he turned to face the fresh waves of enemies.</p>
<p>“Incoming from the south wing!” Carth shouted. “Canderous, HK, slow them down! Zaalbar, hit their right flank!”</p>
<p>In the noisy chaos, Carth almost missed a slender shadow slinking behind the Sith ranks. A Dark Jedi vaulted over the Sith line, deflecting blaster bolts with a casual flick of her lightsaber. She landed in a half-crouch, heedless of the bodies strewn about, coiled to spring—only to be met in the no-being’s land by Juhani. The two traded a dizzying number of blows, almost too fast to be tracked. Certainly too fast for Carth to get a shot in. The Sith forces, however, had fewer compunctions about friendly fire, continuing to encroach on the no-being’s land.</p>
<p>The Dark Jedi stumbled backwards, then crumpled to the ground with Juhani’s lightsaber through her heart. Carth didn’t see what tripped the Dark Jedi, but he did see Jolee’s raised arm in his peripheral. Even with her down, that still left a half-dozen troopers. Carth didn’t let up, figuring that every dead Sith was one less foe to block Velire’s retreat.</p>
<p>The change in the battle was so slow he didn’t notice anything until the Sith line faltered. The <em>Hawk </em>crew cut a swathe through the encroaching Sith with an efficient grace; despite the circumstances, Carth felt a swell of pride at the cohesion of their unique, mismatched squad. He could trust that no matter what direction blaster fire came from, someone was guarding his back, whether it was Canderous’s armoured bulk, roaring battle cries that once Carth only heard on the other side of the battlefield; Juhani with her unblinking, unflinching focus; even HK-47’s gleeful assault.</p>
<p>The half-dozen Jedi on the strike team moved like water, pushing down the ramps to keep the Sith from gaining ground. Canderous and HK-47 brought more pressure to bear, picking off hostiles before they could strike the Jedi. The Sith forces broke under the assault, and the cacophony of shouts and blaster fire faded to an uneasy quiet, granting them a few minutes respite.</p>
<p>“Everyone all right?” Carth called.</p>
<p>Canderous was already prowling between the bodies to make sure they were all dead. “Still standing.”</p>
<p>“We’re fine over here,” Mission called from the terminal. “T3 and I triggered a security lockdown and sealed most of the doors on the closest production lines. The Sith also get to deal with a dozen bogus alerts on the other side of the station.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Carth spared a brief, longing look for the sealed door Velire had gone through. “What about the CIC lockdown?”</p>
<p>Mission’s expression twisted with frustration. “T3 and I can crack it with enough time. Probably.”</p>
<p>“Do it.”</p>
<p>Despite the circumstances, her face cracked in a fierce grin, her eyes burning with the challenge, and she scampered away to the sealed entrance to the command centre with T3-M4 on her heels.</p>
<p>Carth, meanwhile, strode over to the Jedi strike team. Their leader, a Human with an unflappable mien called Master Kavar, stood at the top of the ramp. Eyes on the deceptively quiet concourse, he asked, “We appreciate the help, Commander, but what are you doing back here?”</p>
<p>After twenty years of service, Carth knew a demand for a sitrep when he heard one. “Bastila cut us off. Velire went on alone.”</p>
<p>Kavar nodded. Despite his unruffled expression, Carth sensed his disquiet. Maybe after months living with four Jedi, he could distinguish the slightest tightening around Kavar’s eyes. “We’ll hold our position here. If she fails, we must reach the CIC.”</p>
<p>Carth said through clenched teeth, “She won’t fail.”</p>
<p>Any response was cut off as a door at the far end of the bay peeled open, admitting a squadron of battle droids.</p>
<p>“Into cover!” Carth shouted, ducking behind a console bay as heavy cannon fire roared across the concourse. Canderous automatically took up position on one knee beside him, heavy repeater raised. Zaalbar, meanwhile, had trouble fitting behind a nearby console, almost hunched into a ball with his weapons and grenades arrayed on the ground in front of him. The various Jedi positioned themselves at the fringes of the console bays, ready to leap at the enemy or into cover as the situation demanded.</p>
<p>By now Carth had fought enough Sith battle droids to understand their tactics. They’d split into two groups of three and advance, letting their shields absorb incoming fire while wreaking havoc with their shoulder-mounted heavy weapons. Their sloping design and overlarge pincers made them impervious to most harm with a terrifying reach. Without organic sentiments such as fear or even a programmed drive for self-preservation, they prioritised dealing as much damage as possible in as little time as possible. His team’s advantage of high ground wouldn’t count for much.</p>
<p>In seconds, the concourse was alight with a chaotic volley of blaster fire. Carth leaned out of cover and aimed at the swarm of war droids. A blue and brown blur shot through the air, and the first droid quickly fell under Kavar’s lightsabers. Canderous and HK-47 joined the fray; the thunderous hail of fire from their heavy weapons made the droids’ shields flare and shudder, but not quickly enough to hold off their advance. The leader of the pack clambered up the ramp, heedless of its flickering shield, and brought its shoulder-mounted weapons to bear. Carth was forced to duck, swearing, under the hail of fire.</p>
<p>A fierce blue lightsaber spun end over end above him, striking the joint in the droid’s neck. A great shudder wracked its frame as its head all but severed, and it collapsed with a vibration that ran through the catwalk. To Carth’s right, Canderous shouted a gleeful Mandalorian curse about the strength of the droid’s parentage. Juhani’s lightsaber sailed back to her waiting hand, and she sank into a half-crouch that heralded one of her leaping attacks. Two of the Jedi on the strike team likewise launched themselves off the upper tier, lightsabers aloft.</p>
<p>In unison, the four droids crouched in their defensive mode, and the air hissed with the fury of a dozen missiles. One Jedi took two in the chest before he could even react. Jolee made a sharp yanking gesture; Juhani and the remaining Knight were pulled backward into cover. The consoles they ducked behind barely withstood the assault, shuddering at every impact; the reek of carbon and fried electronics burned the air. With enough time—or simply enough firepower—the droids could punch through the console bays.</p>
<p>Another wave of cannon blasts abruptly swerved for the ceiling, looping around to descend on the cluster of droids. The detonation tore through the concourse, hurling fire and shrapnel in all directions. The droids’ protective ablating was shredded, their chrome finish ruined by deep gouges and black welts of carbon scoring. Two droids had limbs torn clean off, but none had suffered critical damage.</p>
<p>Carth burst out of cover to pin the closest droid under a withering hail of blaster fire. Its half-ruined head dome swivelled to find the newest threat, and then his energy shield was flickering under the sudden mass of blaster fire.</p>
<p>“Oi, bucket of bolts!” Canderous likewise rose out of cover. The two of them hammered the battle droid until its chassis was black with carbon scoring.</p>
<p>Carth sank back into cover as his energy shield flickered out. His comlink crackled. “This is Commander Morin. Our route to the core is blocked and we are under heavy fire, taking casualties. We need backup ASAP!”</p>
<p>Despite the chaos, Carth somehow caught Kavar’s eye. “We can hold position here while you back up the secondary team!” Never mind that they could barely hold the concourse even with the Jedi’s help. “Bastila won’t impede the Fleet, one way or another. We’ll make sure of that.”</p>
<p>After a moment’s consideration, Kavar nodded and touched his comlink. “We read you, Commander. My team is en route.”</p>
<p>As Kavar recalled his strike team, Carth barked, “Keep the droids’ attention on us!”</p>
<p>Grenades were a precious resource this far into a battle, but Zaalbar sacrificed an ion grenade to strip the shielding from the closest pair. The droids faltered, bright white shocks running across their frames as their shields flickered out. Zaalbar wasted no time switching to his bowcaster, targeting their optic sensors and the weaker joints in their squat necks. One collapsed under the barrage, but the other continued heedless of the fact it was trailing one partially-severed arm. Jolee levitated a severed pincer off the ground and hurtled toward the nearest hostile like a javelin, tearing through ablating and circuitry.</p>
<p>In the mayhem, the Jedi team almost managed to escape unseen. A tremor ran through one droid as it swivelled to assault the more obvious targets. Kavar and another Knight stood shoulder to shoulder, lightsabers flashing as they backed up. The strike team piled through the doorway in a hail of blaster fire, the portal slamming shut on their heels.</p>
<p>That left only the crew of the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> to face down the remaining battle droids. Carth had to duck under a barrage of fierce blaster fire, feeling one round uncomfortably close to his head.</p>
<p>His comlink crackled again, and he froze at the sound of Velire’s voice. “Bastila is using her battle meditation to aid the Republic. Fall back to the hangar bay!” The connection dropped without waiting for an acknowledgement.</p>
<p>A fierce elation ran through Carth. “She did it!” His relief was mirrored by the faces around him.</p>
<p>“The darkness will not claim another soul this day!” Juhani panted, her golden eyes fierce.</p>
<p>Even Canderous’s expression broke into something resembling relief. “Bastila doesn’t belong to the Sith, and Malak was a fool to think he could keep her while we still lived.”</p>
<p>Maybe it was Bastila’s battle meditation, or maybe just the rush that came with Velire’s victory, but it seemed easier to take in the battlefield. There were only two hostiles left, but droids had a funny habit of getting more dangerous when the odds didn’t favour them. Case and point: both droids lowered their head domes to deflect incoming fire and charged.</p>
<p>One vaulted clear over Carth’s cover, catching him with the flat edge of one pincer. The blow was enough to send him flying, and the world narrowed to the tumbling rush of air and the stench of carbon and motor oil. Carth landed heavily, the air punched from his lungs. The war droid loomed over him, filling his vision, and the faint whine of servos was all the warning he had to roll away as it slammed a pincer into the floor where his head had been.</p>
<p>Underneath the droid, Carth jammed the muzzle of one blaster to the underside of the droid and fired point-blank. The droid lifted a leg to slam its foot down on his chest—</p>
<p>Only for it to freeze in place. The servos in its limbs strained and groaned, but it couldn’t break free of the stasis field. Carth rolled out from under its foot as a blaster rifle cracked nearby, the sound like thunder.</p>
<p>A fist-sized dent appeared in the droid’s head dome. HK-47 aimed again, and a second round blew out the circuitry in the droid’s head. Its great white eye winked out, and the stasis field released its hold. For the first time, Carth felt grateful Velire had spent all those credits on an anti-materiel rifle for the murderous droid.</p>
<p>Carth barely had time to get his bearings when peculiar beeping began behind him. He whipped around to see that the last droid had sunk into a defensive crouch and triggered its self destruct sequence.</p>
<p>Carth shouted, “Everybody move—!”</p>
<p>The droid suddenly shuddered, white tongues of cracking light coursing through its frame. Canderous and Zaalbar turned at the sound and wasted no time pelting the droid with a hail of blaster fire until it finally collapsed, inert. T3-M4 wheeled forward with a chirp, his ion ray folding back into his chassis.</p>
<p>As the riot of battle faded to nothing, Carth frowned down at T3-M4. “Thanks for the assist, little guy, but what are you doing here?”</p>
<p>The astromech’s warbling answer was all but lost as Mission shouted, “We did it! We broke through the CIC lockdown!”</p>
<p>Before anyone could respond, a distant rumble shook through the Forge. Carth’s grip tightened instinctively on his weapons, but he’d been in enough space battles to know they were almost in the bombardment phase.</p>
<p>“I fear we have little time remaining,” Juhani said tightly, the tips of her ears twitching.</p>
<p>“If we fall back to the <em>Hawk</em>, the Sith will break through to the CIC,” Canderous said. His gaze was grim, steadier than permacrete, and Carth heard what he didn’t say: <em>if you want to disobey her order, I’ll stand with you</em>.</p>
<p>Carth stopped. Years of military discipline told him to obey orders. That problems could and would ensue if his team wasn’t where Velire expected them to be. With Bastila’s battle meditation now on their side, it was only a matter of time before the Republic broke through to bombard the station. But all Carth could see was Velire’s unusually grim manner since they’d punched in the coordinates for the Star Forge.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sorry, beautiful, but you can’t martyr yourself that easily.</em>
</p>
<p>The words were heavy in his mouth. “We’re not leaving without Velire and Bastila.”</p>
<p>As Carth said it, a part of him crawled with unease. He’d creatively interpreted orders in the past, but this—this was something else. Technically Velire had no authority over him, but that felt like a flimsy excuse even in the privacy of his own head. The officer side of him waited for someone to point out that he’d not only disobeyed a direct order but ordered the rest of them to do so as well.</p>
<p>Nobody did. Looking from face to face, he saw that they were all as anxious as he was.</p>
<p>Carth swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Let’s move out.”</p>
<p>He pushed down the unease coiling in his gut as the crew fell into formation. And then there was no more time for doubts as the CIC cycled open to reveal Bastila flat on her back, with a red lightsaber centimetres from her throat. Three Dark Jedi in armoured black robes stood over her.</p>
<p>A furious blur swept by as Juhani slammed headlong into the Dark Jedi threatening Bastila. The two of them tumbled away with uncanny grace, lightsabers a blur. Before the other Sith could even think of jumping into the fray, HK-47’s rifle cracked with inorganic precision. The second Dark Jedi, a mountain of a Nautolan, crumpled to the ground. Bastila seized the opportunity to roll away, her lightsaber clutched awkwardly in her left hand.</p>
<p>“Mission!” Carth barked. “Get Bastila to safety!”</p>
<p>“On it!” She shivered out of existence, little more than a faint ripple in the air.</p>
<p>That left the third Dark Jedi to contend with. Her slim figure and light armour were all the warning Carth needed as she charged. He raised his blasters and fired, hearing an answering chatter as Canderous, Zaalbar and HK-47 did the same. Any Jedi could be overwhelmed by blaster fire—but for what must’ve been one of Malak’s most valued servants, that was easier said than done. Her lightsaber spun with inhuman speed to deflect; only a couple of shots breached her defences. She staggered, but recovered with startling speed—and then their weapons found nothing but empty air. Carth tracked the Dark Jedi, but the woman neatly evaded Zaalbar’s roaring charge and a burst of the Force sent him stumbling right into Carth’s line of fire.</p>
<p>The Dark Jedi vaulted overhead, but Zaalbar recovered quickly enough to grab her ankle and hurl her to the ground with thunderous force. Carth smashed his boot into her right hand, feeling bones crunch as her lightsaber spun away. The Dark Jedi howled in pain and rage, her yellow eyes as hot as stars. Canderous raised his repeater to finish her off, but her free arm cut through the air.</p>
<p>Carth knew that move. Knew what was coming as gravity heaved and they were thrown off their feet. White stars burst in front of his vision as he was slammed spine-first into a wall, and he fought to keep a grip on his weapons.</p>
<p>Blinking the stars away, Carth raised his blasters before he could even make sense of the scene. Across the room, Juhani and her opponent duelled atop the CIC’s central console, lightsabers dancing through the holographic displays. And farther away again, in the shadow of a support strut, Jolee and Mission hovered over Bastila.</p>
<p>A snarl of pain echoed across the CIC. Juhani raked her lightsaber across her opponent’s thigh, sending him lurching backward. Before she could land a final blow, he threw out an arm towards three prongs that hung from the ceiling above the central console bay.</p>
<p>Before Carth could wonder at the odd gesture, Bastila was shouting, “The Star Forge! Its power can heal—”</p>
<p>Three bolts of brilliant energy arced from the prongs to strike each of the Dark Jedi. Juhani’s opponent uncoiled, standing tall once more, while the third flipped to her feet and called her lightsaber back to her hand. And the Dark Jedi that HK-47 had shot rose to her feet with a malicious smile.</p>
<p>Faster than even HK-47’s droid efficiency, the Dark Jedi flung a bolt of lightning at the droid. Scorching white shocks crisscrossed over his chassis and snaked out to his limbs. HK-47 convulsed under the barrage and toppled sideways, eyes dark. Smoke curled through the gaps in his ablating, reeking of burnt circuitry.</p>
<p>Carth was already firing before the Dark Jedi turned her attention elsewhere. Without a lightsaber, it would have been easy to mistake the Nautolan for a commando, given she was a hulking mass of thick segmented armour. Carth’s first shot connected, barely grazing the chrome-smooth finish of the Sith’s breastplate, but the rest she easily deflected. One bolt zipped back towards him; Carth rolled out of the way behind an orbiting console, but pain seared through his elbow and he let out a bark of pain.</p>
<p>By the time he raised his head out of cover, the Nautolan was charging across the field to Bastila’s hiding place. Jolee stood his ground between the Dark Jedi and her prize, face grim, lightsaber held in a low guard stance. He didn’t so much as flinch as the Dark Jedi barrelled into him. Red light flared as her lightsaber arced, missing Jolee by centimetres. The blade swung again with crushing strength, and Jolee dodged again. Each attack only just barely missed him, until the Dark Jedi crashed down with an overhead strike. Jolee managed to bring up his lightsaber to hold off a fatal blow, only for the Dark Jedi to lock their blades and press down with her considerable strength. Jolee gritted his teeth, shoulders straining. His feet skidded back several centimetres.</p>
<p>Carth burst from cover to fire at the Dark Jedi’s exposed back. “Oh no, you don’t!”</p>
<p>Without breaking the lock, the Nautolan stretched an arm in Carth’s direction and yanked. The world lurched in a rush of air made sharp with a trace of smoke, and he was suddenly on the other side of the chamber. Instead of falling back to the ground, he found himself suspended in the air, an invisible vise closing around his throat. Distantly, Carth was aware of his kicking legs. A blur of shouts. Hot white stars burst across his vision, all air punched from his lungs, and the last thing that registered was the laughing Nautolan with an outstretched hand, scant feet away.</p>
<p>Carth shoved the muzzle of one blaster against her palm and fired. With a furious shriek, the Dark Jedi staggered backwards. Her teeth were bared, flashing white, and her half-curled fingers snapped into a fist. But instead of crushing his neck, the field holding him vanished.</p>
<p>Carth dropped heavily, knees buckling, and swallowed great gulps of air. He glanced around to find that Jolee had flung his hands out, sweat beading on his wrinkled forehead.</p>
<p>The Dark Jedi made a noise that was half-snarl, half-laugh. One of her hands dangled uselessly at her side, palm scorched black, while the other raised her lightsaber high.</p>
<p>Before she could land a no doubt final blow, a stun ray caught her square in the chest. T3-M4 charged with a torrent of binary invective, stun ray unfurled. In those precious seconds T3-M4’s charge bought him, Carth raised his blaster to the Nautolan’s face and fired. Then fired a few more times for good measure. The Dark Jedi dropped like a boulder and went still.</p>
<p>A shout echoed across the chamber. Canderous and Zaalbar were keeping the third Dark Jedi occupied in a vicious melee. Canderous twisted out of the way before her lightsaber could carve through his heart, and the saber skimmed his pauldron instead. With a snarl, he shoved the muzzle of his repeater into her face only for her to backflip out of range, kicking the weapon out of his hand.</p>
<p>“We should have killed all of you at Malachor!” she snarled.</p>
<p>Canderous planted his feet and caught the spare vibroblade Zaalbar tossed at him. “Then stop dancing, Jedi, and come get me!”</p>
<p>Bold words from a man armed only with a vibroblade, and even the grizzled warrior knew it. His armour protected him from immediate death while implants gave him the agility of a man twenty years his junior, but it wasn’t enough for more than evading a deathblow. A flash of crimson reflected the polished silver of Bacca’s Blade as Zaalbar sprang into the fray.</p>
<p>Where Canderous and Zaalbar channelled their attacks with ferocious strength, the Dark Jedi dodged their attacks with a mocking levity. She neatly sidestepped Canderous’s charge, kicking out his leg, then spun into a crouch to evade Zaalbar’s blade aiming for her neck. Faster than the Mandalorian could turn to face her, she twisted and lunged. The humming blade struck him just inside the shoulder, cleaving through a weak join in his armour. Canderous roared in pain, the sound resonating through the vaulted space.</p>
<p>Atop the CIC, Juhani’s opponent kicked her square in the chest, sending her flying. The Dark Jedi pursued, lightsaber thrumming with promise as Juhani tried to stand. He stretched out a hand and Juhani’s knees buckled with the awful sound of bones crunching. Her shoulders bowed under an invisible weight, hands curled into claws. Even from this distance, Carth could see her teeth bared in defiance.</p>
<p>As Juhani struggled to fight off the effects of the Force attack, the Dark Jedi laughed and raised his weapon. “Now you die!”</p>
<p>A crimson double-bladed lightsaber hurtled through the air, cleaving through the Dark Jedi’s spine. He collapsed as the saber sailed back to Bastila’s waiting hand.</p>
<p>The third Dark Jedi laughed. “Is that the best you can muster, apprentice? Lord Malak spent <em>years </em>pursuing you, and look at you! I can hardly believe what a disappointment you are.”</p>
<p>Bastila gripped her lightsaber awkwardly in her off-hand, only one blade lit, but that didn’t stop her from clambering to her feet. Her face was bone white, jaw set. “The Star Forge is lost! I have made sure of that, Idarna.”</p>
<p>“Hah!” Idarna raised her arms. “The Forge still has power enough to destroy you!”</p>
<p>Carth tensed. Exhaustion pulled at his bones, a faint tremble settling into his limbs, but he forced himself to suck in a breath and ready his weapons. At his shoulder, Canderous stood with one hand pressed to his armpit and a vibroblade raised in the other. Zaalbar stood on his other side, the monstrous beast of Bacca’s Blade levelled with unflinching focus. A quiet voice in the back of Carth’s mind wondered if all they could do was hold off the Sith forces long enough for the Navy to blow the Star Forge into scrap.</p>
<p>Except nothing happened. One second stretched into two, then three.</p>
<p>“Sure about that?” A pair of blue headtails popped up from a nearby console. Mission held up a bouquet of surgically severed cables with a fierce grin.</p>
<p>Idarna snarled. “You insolent wretch! I’ll break every bone in your body!”</p>
<p>Panic bolted through Carth. He aimed his blasters as Idarna lifted a hand to send Mission flying—</p>
<p>Zaalbar’s enraged roar shook the very ceiling. He charged at the Dark Jedi, faster than even she could react, and brought Bacca’s Blade down with a mighty blow. Her gorget may as well have been made from plasteel as the blade sunk deep into the joint where her neck met her shoulder. The Dark Jedi crumpled with a gurgling noise.</p>
<p>Silence fell across the chamber, heavy with finality.</p>
<p>Zaalbar called, <em>“Mission! Where are you?”</em></p>
<p>“Big Z!” Mission raced towards him, and he pulled her into a fierce hug. “Are you okay, bud?”</p>
<p>Zaalbar growled as she poked around his collection of burns. “<em>I will live.</em>”</p>
<p>Nearby, Bastila weaved on her feet, her expression broken with relief. “Mission. That was most excellent—and timely—work with the power conduit.”</p>
<p>Mission’s grin could have powered the whole station. “You know me, I think on my feet.”</p>
<p>“Jolee, see to Juhani,” Carth called, then turned his attention to Canderous. The Mandalorian was somehow still on his feet, if only just, and didn’t resist when Carth steered him to one of the support struts holding up the ceiling.</p>
<p>As Canderous leaned heavily against the pillar, breaths harsh, Carth assessed the damage. The blade had slashed down to his armpit, leaving a vicious burn. Already his implant was working to mitigate the damage, but Carth had a medpac ready. He caught Canderous’s eye, and the other man nodded once, teeth bared.</p>
<p>“Just get on with it.”</p>
<p>Forgoing all the usual warnings, Carth pressed a kolto injector into the wound and fired it. Canderous’s expression twisted and he sucked in a shuddering breath. Carth applied another layer of kolto to the surface of the wound, then sealed it.</p>
<p>“Don’t die before we get back to the ship, Ordo.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t… planning on it.” Canderous gestured at one of Carth’s blasters. “Mind if I borrow that?”</p>
<p>Carth handed one over. “Don’t scratch the finish.”</p>
<p>Canderous held it carefully in his off-hand, his other arm tucked protectively over his wound. “Wouldn’t… dream of it. Now go. You have more important things to do than play medic.”</p>
<p>Carth carefully clapped his uninjured shoulder and turned away. “Yell if you’re about to pass out.”</p>
<p>Canderous’s snort followed him. “What do you take me for, Onasi?”</p>
<p>Surveying the room at large, Carth did a quick headcount—everyone accounted for—then called to Mission, “Seal that door!”</p>
<p>Mission all but pounced on the control panel, eschewing any intricate slicing in favour of prying the panel clean off and messing with the wires. “That’ll stop ‘em!”</p>
<p>With Canderous and Juhani seen to, Carth turned his attention to Bastila. She looked pale and phantasmal in perfectly tailored black robes. For the first time, he noticed her right arm was secured in a makeshift sling. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>Bastila pulled up short. Her tight, anxious gaze cast about the room to take in the entire crew. Her expression twisted with some unfathomable emotion. There was something wrong about it—and then Carth was close enough to see that her skin had a sickly grey hue, paler than her usual alabaster tone. Something shifted behind her eyes even as her chin quavered. “I will survive.”</p>
<p>“Velire told us what happened,” he said carefully. “That you’re back on our side.”</p>
<p>Regret chased across her face. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, unable to meet his eye. “I am, yes. For whatever that is worth.”</p>
<p>“It means a lot,” Mission said firmly. “We’re just glad you’re okay now.”</p>
<p><em>“The spirit of the </em>Ebon Hawk<em> has been incomplete without your presence,”</em> Zaalbar woofed.</p>
<p>Through harsh breaths, Juhani added, “We would not abandon you to drown in Malak’s evil.”</p>
<p>Bastila’s head snapped up, naked shock dancing across her features. Followed by a burning shame. “I… I don’t deserve such acceptance.”</p>
<p>“Too bad, kid, cause you just got it,” Jolee said.</p>
<p>Bastila opened her mouth to respond, eyes flashing with an almost familiar stubbornness, but T3-M4 called a warning from the central command console. All eyes turned to the holoprojector where the Republic was losing its tenuous advantage.</p>
<p>Bastila’s mouth pressed into a hard, determined line. “I must continue my meditation, or else the Republic may yet be defeated.”</p>
<p>Carth nodded. “We’ll make sure no one else interrupts you.”</p>
<p>Without a further word, Bastila sank to her knees, eyes closed. Carth assigned the remaining crew around the CIC. Canderous, that stubborn old kath, took position near the exit to discourage any Sith from entering the room. Zaalbar crouched by HK-47’s crumpled body to assess the damage; Carth couldn’t exactly say he felt relieved when Zaalbar reported the droid could be repaired, but he knew Velire had a soft spot for the thing. Jolee had ushered Juhani to a quiet position behind cover to tend her wounds. T3-M4 was hooked into a terminal to monitor and redirect any Sith forces on the hunt for them. Mission, meanwhile, was on comms duty in case Admiral Dodonna sent updates from the Fleet. She wasn’t thrilled by the posting, but knowing she was safe—relatively speaking—took a weight off Carth’s mind.</p>
<p>That left only one worry. <em>C’mon, Lire, where are you?</em></p>
<p>Carth was no stranger to hurrying up and waiting, but he had nothing to distract him from the seconds ticking by, measured by the uneven rhythm of his heartbeat in his ears. Not loud enough to drown out the distant shuddering roars wracking the station. He only had to glance at the CIC displays to see the Navy’s formation and coordination as the capital ships closed into bombardment range.</p>
<p>From her comm station, Mission called, “The admiral said the Fleet is getting ready to bombard the Forge!”</p>
<p>Carth gritted his teeth. “We’re not going anywhere without Velire.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I told her, but I don’t think she was listening!”</p>
<p>“Hold steady. There’s still time!”</p>
<p>Mission didn’t respond, and Carth had to wonder if his words had done any good. He hated risking her life like this, but there was no way to evacuate her and the others from the Forge without dooming Velire. That, and he knew to the core of his being that none of them would leave. Just as he wouldn’t.</p>
<p>Carth resisted the urge to try comming Velire, if only barely. If she was still locked in combat with Malak, he didn’t dare risk distracting her. But a shadow of doubt crawled through him—how long had it been since her last communication? Time blurred in a seething mass of blaster fire and rattling gantries as he tried to recount it all. If she hadn’t yet won, could she win at all? Had she already lost?</p>
<p>The Star Forge jolted, the blow resounding through the ceiling.</p>
<p>“<em>Haar’chak!”</em> Canderous growled. “Looks like the Republic is happy to make martyrs of us.”</p>
<p>Carth grunted, caught between the soldier who understood that the Forge had to be destroyed no matter the cost, and the more selfish side that wouldn’t forgive if he lost a second family in the name of duty.</p>
<p>A shocked gasp nearby put Carth’s already raw nerves on edge. Bastila’s eyes snapped open, her face whiter than bone. One hand was pressed to her chest, fingers curling into the fabric of her robes. Heedless of her injured arm, she heaved herself to her feet and staggered for a door on the far side of the CIC.</p>
<p>The portal cycled open. Carth aimed his blasters at the shadowy robed figure hunched over the threshold before a twist of recognition knifed through him. Velire, all but collapsed against the door frame.</p>
<p>A fierce elation rushed through him, run through with relief so acute it may as well have been pain. For a moment he couldn’t form words, scrambling to reach her side as the others lowered their weapons.</p>
<p>Bastila got there first. The two of them shared some wordless moment, broken by Velire’s grimacing gasp for air. “Happy?”</p>
<p>“Thrilled beyond words.” For a moment the old Bastila was back, her words almost dry, but there was no mistaking the desperate relief in her expression.</p>
<p>Velire sucked in another pained breath, and the entirety of Carth’s being focused on her. She was a mess, reeking of rust and ozone, sporting all manner of burns and dark splatters of blood. Her robes were all but ruined, and she could barely stand. Her bloodshot gaze settled on him, hazy with pain and post-battle stupor.</p>
<p>He eased Velire off Bastila’s shoulder, and she all but fell into him. “Easy, beautiful. I’ve got you.”</p>
<p>Alive. She was alive in his arms, her ribs expanding against Carth with every breath.</p>
<p>She made a soft noise, fingers curling weakly against his shoulder. “It’s… it’s done.”</p>
<p>Carth could hardly comprehend the scope of the word. Malak dead and Bastila saved—and both he and Velire were free.</p>
<p>Bastila’s expression shifted, too fast to make sense of the emotions chasing across her face. “He’s really…?”</p>
<p>Velire squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.</p>
<p>Over Velire’s head, Carth surveyed Bastila again. She seemed to sway, listless, as if Velire’s weight had been the only thing keeping her grounded.</p>
<p>“Enough gawping!” Canderous slid a supporting arm under Bastila’s uninjured shoulder, ignoring the way she flinched away from the contact. “Everyone to the <em>Hawk</em>! No sense in dying now, and I’ll be damned if I let a Republic laser cannon kill me.”</p>
<p>“What hangar bay is the <em>Ebon Hawk</em> in?” Bastila asked.</p>
<p>“J-130,” Carth supplied.</p>
<p>“There is a nearby turbolift that can take us to Level J. Quickly, we have no time to waste!”</p>
<p>A few turns through labyrinthine passageways brought them to the turbolift. It was a tight squeeze to fit the entire squad, and the distant shuddering rumbles of cannon fire made for the galaxy’s worst turbolift music. Carth tracked the sounds, trying to tabulate how close the Republic forces were to hitting the Forge’s critical systems. T3-M4 had a route to the hangar planned, and Zaalbar took point to smash through the last dregs of resistance. It felt dirty, somehow, to shoot fleeing Sith in the back, but there was no time to waste. It also felt wrong for Carth to be in the protected centre of the group, but Velire needed him more. He was all but carrying her now.</p>
<p>At last, they reached the hangar bay. The deck heaved, and he felt her legs give out entirely. He hooked one arm behind her knees to hoist her into his arms. She flinched at the sudden movement, suggesting even more damage under her robes. Broken ribs, maybe. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I’ve got you, Lire. I’ve got you.”</p>
<p>Only T3-M4 rolled up the boarding ramp unimpeded. Jolee and Mission hurried Juhani inside, Zaalbar following with HK-47 on his back. Canderous and Bastila helped each other limp up the boarding ramp while Carth had his hands full with Velire. She was all but a dead weight in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. His legs burned with every step, but he forced his exhausted limbs into a grudging jog, summoning the last dregs of adrenaline long since worn thin. His attention tunnelled to the boarding ramp, open in a silent offer of salvation.</p>
<p>A great shuddering roar wracked the station, the hangar lights dimming as the boarding ramp closed. On instinct, Carth turned to bolt to the cockpit, only to be arrested by Velire’s weight in his arms.</p>
<p>Canderous grabbed Carth’s shoulder. “I’ll fly. You see to her!”</p>
<p>Carth could only nod his gratitude and then Canderous was pounding down the corridor while Jolee escorted Juhani to medbay. No time to do more than brace against one of the seats in the main hold as the <em>Hawk </em>lifted off, sailing at last to safety. A part of him itched to be in the cockpit, to guide her through the ruined remains of the battle lines, swerving through debris and stray cannon blasts, but he stayed put.</p>
<p>The <em>Hawk </em>shuddered violently, sending a shock through his legs. With Velire’s added weight, Carth teetered dangerously before a large paw caught his elbow. Zaalbar held him steady, his feet planted with the infinite strength of wroshyr roots as the <em>Hawk </em>rolled to port. Bastila gasped from where she clutched the back of a seat for support, one hand pressed to her chest.</p>
<p>Mission’s voice, floating over the ship comm. “They just blew the Star Forge into scrap!”</p>
<p>Carth’s heart thudded. He didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare to dream that it was finally over. A lifetime since he’d known peace. Two lifetimes, even. A hundred battles or more, distilled into one conclusive moment. It marked the end of a life—a life that began with Telos’s death, one that he no longer wanted to follow into oblivion. But despite the victory, a strange chill settled in his gut.</p>
<p>A moment later, he understood why. In his arms, Velire coughed, the sound wet and rattling as she struggled to breathe. A thin line of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth, stark against her ashen face.</p>
<p>Carth’s blood ran cold.</p>
<p>Lowering Velire to the floor, he rolled her onto her side to help her breathe. A fist of fear clenched around his heart at the low, pained noise she made. Her breaths grew shallower, her pulse erratic in her neck, eyes sliding out of focus. In just a few minutes, she’d deteriorated. Badly.</p>
<p>The paralysing cold of the deck sank through him. An old, familiar spectre slithered around his heart, conjuring numb memories of lonely nights stretched before him like a cold infinity.</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>Every instinct revolted, caught by sickening familiarity. For a moment the world warped, and Carth’s nose was filled with the stench of burnt ozone and ash. The deck fell away with a sickening lurch to heated rubble, and he was looking at blue eyes instead of hazel. Horror rose from the depths of his chest.</p>
<p>
  <em>No no nonono— </em>
</p>
<p>Carth knew to his bones that begging wouldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop it. But he couldn’t stop. “C’mon, beautiful, stay with me. You have to keep your eyes open. Please, just hold on a little longer. Stay with me!” Fuelled by futile desperation, he looked around for Jolee—dammit, where was the old man when he was needed? “Someone get a medpac, anything—!”</p>
<p>Something thudded beside him, heavy. Bastila. She reached forward to grip Velire’s chin, her gaze clear with fury as she stared unblinking into Velire’s eyes. There was nothing soft left in her now, too demanding for a Jedi and too desperate for a Sith. For the first time, Carth could see how she had chosen to save the Dark Lord from death. “If I must live, then so will you! Do you hear me, Revan?”</p>
<p>For several terrible moments, nothing happened. Velire didn’t so much as twitch, her gaze unfocused and glassy. His entire galaxy balanced on a blade’s edge.</p>
<p>Then Velire’s next breath came a little easier. A little less ragged. Her eyes, still half-lidded, slid to Bastila and a strange infinity stretched between them. As the silent seconds slid by, her breathing deepened, losing its rattling edge, and he felt the pained stiffness slowly melt away from her body. Carth’s skin prickled, knowing there was a power at work that he couldn’t perceive. At last, Bastila leaned back, her eyes half-closed, and she let out a shuddering breath.</p>
<p>Carth slumped against the central console, squeezing his eyes shut. Velire shifted against him, a modicum of strength returning to her limbs. As her fingers ghosted over his, he realised he’d been holding his breath and let out a long, shuddering exhale. His eyes burned.</p>
<p>
  <em>Alive. She’s alive.</em>
</p>
<p>As Bastila retreated, Carth caught her wrist. If he looked past the muddy colour of her eyes, he could see a familiar stubborn glimmer. That much of her he still recognised, at least. “Thank you. I just— thank you.”</p>
<p>Same as before, she couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a moment. Looking down, she rested a hand on Velire’s forehead in an unusually tender gesture. Her expression was unfathomable. “She will not die here. Not while I live. But she needs further medical care.”</p>
<p>“We’re set to rendezvous with your admiral’s flagship. They know to expect wounded.”</p>
<p>Carth jumped, glancing around to see Canderous emerge from the direction of the cockpit with Mission on his heels—until she spied Carth and Velire in a heap on the floor and all but teleported to their side. “What happened? Is Lire all right?”</p>
<p>Carth reached out to grip Mission’s shoulder as she sank to her knees beside him. “She will be, with a kolto pack or three.”</p>
<p>Mission’s face was pale, her expression tight, but she nodded and grasped Velire’s hand in both of her own. “You hear that, Lire? You’re going to be okay.” Looking up at Bastila, some of her anxiety softened as she smiled, reaching out to touch her wrist. “Hey, Bastila? It’s good to have you back, as well.”</p>
<p>Bastila nodded uncomfortably, keeping her gaze on Velire. “I— thank you, Mission.”</p>
<p>A minor commotion at the medbay door signalled Juhani’s appearance as she braced against the doorframe, ignoring Jolee hovering at her elbow. “It is... finished, yes?”</p>
<p>“If it isn’t, I need a nap,” Jolee grumbled. “You should be lying <em>down</em>—” He paused as he took in the scene in the main hold. “And you aren’t the only one, it seems.”</p>
<p>A part of Carth wanted to demand that Jolee heal Velire, but for the first time, the old man seemed to look his age, his strength flagging as he held onto the doorway in a gnarled grip. Zaalbar shuffled over to offer him an arm to lean on, and it was a testament to the old man’s exhaustion that he didn’t snap at the cheek of a whippersnapper.</p>
<p>Velire made a soft noise, her eyelids fluttering, and then Carth found himself caught by her tired hazel gaze. She squinted up at him, frowning at his expression. “We… we did win, right?”</p>
<p>The fist around his heart loosened at last. Fighting an absurd, giddy laugh, Carth brushed her hair out of her face. “We did.”</p>
<p>A thread of tension eased out of her limbs, and she settled against his side with a little contented sigh. Carth shifted his weight, stretching out one leg and setting her more comfortably in his lap. His stiff joints protested as he found a better position, congealing now that the final threat had passed. Pulling Velire more firmly against him, Carth relished the feel of her chest expanding with every breath.</p>
<p>He felt a smile spread across his face, smoothing away some of the terror of the last several hours. She groped for his hand, linking their fingers together. With some minute shifting, they could balance against each other, her body aligning with his.</p>
<p>Velire squeezed his hand. “Love you.”</p>
<p>“Love you, too, beautiful.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has read, kudosed and/or commented! You guys are awesome. I’d also like to give another huge thank you to Ariejul for helping whip this fic into shape!</p>
<p>There are entirely too many plot gizka hopping around now, so we aren’t done. Until next time, everyone!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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